Summer of Salt
by lola-pops
Summary: The heat wave lingers. Sweet, savory and slick. Jasper, Rose and I wade through the humid days, content in our relative isolation. We spend June through August at our family lake property, and this summer is like any other. Until it's not.
1. Fried Chicken and Chainsaws

Bella

It's sweltering, even by the lake. No breeze; just sunshine and sweat and baking skin. I glance over at Rosalie. She stripped her top off and is lying face down on a bright red, striped beach towel. When we were 15 she told me that she thought tan lines were pedestrian. I agreed, even though I didn't know what she meant. That summer we got caught sunbathing topless and Charlie had a really embarrassing meltdown. The subsequent lecture was wildly uncomfortable for us all, and we haven't tried it since.

I smile at the memory and prop myself up on my elbows.

It's a Tuesday in June and the lake is dead. The weekend crowd is gone and there are just a few boats out, reflecting flashes of silver as the fishermen cast their lines into the deep green water. I wonder what they're hoping to catch. Charlie taught me that the best fishing happens at dusk and dawn. I know about the importance of the barometric pressure, and depth finders, and the careful selection of a lure. I go with him sometimes when he's here, loving the quiet and ritual. We don't talk much, but Charlie always lets me have a can of his Wisconsin-brewed beer, and in my earlier years I acted each time like it was my first sip. He doesn't need to know my first beer was an Old English 40oz when I was 14. Jasper stole them from the corner store down off the main road during his gangsta rap phase; one for me, one for him, and one for Rosalie.

They are my cousins and my best friends, but most of the year we're in different states. Our vacation cabins are in northern California, but I'm from Washington State and they live in Los Angeles. Charlie and Carlisle, Rosalie and Jasper's dad, inherited the property from our grandparents, and it's the best place to be in the summer. The heat soars, and the water is so clear you can submerge yourself neck deep and still see your toes.

The cabins are less cabins and more houses, built with local logs. They are peaked, with lofts and windows that extend floor to ceiling. Wide porches wrap around and are supported by giant beams, as the cabins were on a steep incline. They each have a staircase that zigzags down the hill, which is great for the booty, but hell after a night of drinking on the beach.

We arrive every June and stay through August, Charlie and Carlisle flying in and out as their schedules allow. We have staff that comes to clean weekly, stock us with groceries and provide us with anything else we need. We are undoubtedly spoiled, but unlike some members of our family, we aren't complete assholes.

You'd think that we'd get bored sitting around in the middle of nowhere with no other friends, but we're content. We eat, tell stories and laugh; swim, sing loud and badly along to Jasper's guitar at the bonfire, get drunk and lounge in the hot tub. We are 19, and looking forward to our sophomore year of college this fall.

Jasper is heavy into music, Rosalie into cooking and I write a lot, but unlike them I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I write down all of our stories for posterity. Someday our kids will know this place, and read about this summer.

I think of my mom and how much she loved it here. She died when I was 10. I push the thought out of my head, though, not wanting to dwell on it today. At 9 a.m. the heat is already shimmering off the sand.

"Looks like someone bought the Newton place."

I follow Jasper's gaze and see a group of men and one short, slim woman standing hand on hip with what looks like blueprints. They study the papers, watching her gesture, and nodding in agreement.

"Hope they're cool. We've already got one Mrs. Mallory." We all glance at her cabin, which is on the opposite side of the bay from the Stanley house. She is peering at us through binoculars on her deck. We all wave in unison with big smiles. She stomps back in, slamming the screen door behind her.

"That woman needs to chill the fuck out," Jasper laughs.

She watches us disapprovingly all summer long, but I think she secretly harbors feelings for J. He flirts with her at the corner store and though she glares and sputters at his advances she is probably smitten. Most women are.

I look back to the Stanley house. I'm curious, but not overly so, guessing it's probably just an old couple living out their retirement in the woods, or a family with little kids.

Rose is definitely not thinking about kids. "Some of those construction guys look hot, Bella." She lifts her sunglasses and squints at them across the distance.

Jasper and I groan.

"Keep it in your pants, ladies. That's all I ask." He shakes his head.

Rose rolls her eyes almost audibly, lowering her sunglasses and adjusting her bikini top for maximum cleavage.

Without many people our age around, none of us are enjoying a summer romance. It's the one downfall of our relative isolation. Occasionally we can convince Jasper to watch a stupid, fluffy girl movie with us. Rose and I swoon, and he lets out exasperated sighs, hating every second of it. I lie in bed those nights and miss kissing, and the anticipation of a crush. I miss butterflies in my stomach and the flush resulting from a boy's stare. The rest of the time I try not to think about it.

Rose and I spend the rest of the day sipping cocktails, watching the construction crew. They certainly watch us. Rose is a knockout, and makes a show of applying oil to her long, tan, dancer's legs. Jasper works on his latest project, rebuilding a boat motor from the 70's. He comes in and out of the boathouse, grease on his hands, back shiny with sweat. He sings along to the Black Keys and tinkers, sipping a sweating Corona.

Rose fans herself uselessly in the heat.

"Jesus Christ. I feel like I'm getting heat stroke or some shit," she bitches.

"Cannonball?" I ask, already getting up.

She follows and we stand in front of the dock, poised for the game we've been playing ever since I can remember.

We look at each other, and nod, running together toward the water and throwing ourselves off the end of the dock. We surface, laughing, and look to Jasper for his critique.

"I'd give it 6.8."

"Bitch, please. That was at least an 8," Rose argues, splashing him as she walks out of the water.

They continue the debate; he's analyzing the synchronicity of the dual jumps and the tightness of our cannonballs for point deduction. This could go on for a while. They don't hear my phone ring.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hey, Bells." I can hear that his voice is strained.

"What's up? Is something wrong?" My throat feels tight. Rose and Jasper stop bickering and look over, brows furrowed.

"Well," I can almost see him rubbing the back of his neck, "we have a bit of a situation."

My cousins move closer, sitting across from me, together on Rose's lounge chair.

The three of us stare at each other. We're waiting for the bad news. We'd all had our fair share of it. Not long after my mom died, their mother, Charlie's sister Jane, committed suicide. Jasper and Rose found her. They spent years heavily medicated, which is ironic in a way, because she OD'd on pills. They look anxious and my stomach knots and unknots.

"Dad? You're kinda freaking me out."

"Oh God, sorry, kid. It's not that serious, don't worry."

I release a breath and relax my shoulders, shaking my head slightly at the cousins. They both slouch down on the chair, relieved and rolling their eyes.

"You remember Alice Brandon?"

His business partner has a daughter our age. She and I get along well, but her family runs the east coast branch of their fishing tackle empire.

_Yes, that's right. Fishing tackle empire. It's funny, but lucrative. _

After all of the board meetings and boring paperwork, our dads were just two nerds who love to fish.

He told me while ago that Alice was living in Manhattan.

"Of course," I reply, reaching for my drink. Now that I know it's not life or death I sit back and sip at it, listening.

"Her parents want her to get out of the city for a while. Some crazy ex-boyfriend has been harassing her. Broke into her apartment last week. He comes from a wealthy family. The Kings?"

I raise my eyebrows at that, knowing the name from the gossip rags. They are oil tycoons whose son has a laundry list of vapid celebrity hookups and drug arrests.

He continues, "His father has a lot of pull in New York, and they don't want to involve the media so they're having trouble getting legal help."

"Wait, Alice dated Royce King?" Rose's face lights up. He responds in the affirmative, not knowing the significance of the name.

"So, she'll be there tonight. Sorry to spring this on you but I figured you wouldn't mind. You can put her in Pine," referring to the third, vacant cabin.

He sounds distracted now, and I can hear that he's already onto the next task, so I assure him that I'll take care of it and hang up.

I explain the situation to Rose and Jasper, and we gossip about Royce King, and wonder how he got hooked up with Alice.

"She hot?" Jasper interjects.

"Shut up, moron!" Ro slaps his chest.

"Oh come on! It's a totally valid question!" he shoots back, grinning.

"She's really pretty. But dude, she just got out of some traumatic relationship, so don't get all grabby when she gets here," I warn. Jasper smirks.

"Fresh meat, yo." He leans back, nodding and smug.

Rose smacks him again, this time on the back of the head.

* * *

We spend the rest of the day in the water. Rose and I float; Jasper brings us cocktails and talks shit from the dock, working on the motor. We listen to southern rock, which goes with the heat. As the sun's rays starts to weaken, Rose gets out of the water, shaking her hips to "Sweet Home Alabama" as Jasper air-guitars the riff.

Twins. They often fight, but it isn't hostile, and they have that creepy twin-sixth-sense about one another. When we were 12, Jasper broke his arm at baseball camp. At the exact same moment, Rose burst into tears at the breakfast table here at the cabin.

Jasper is closing up the boathouse for the night. "What should we watch tonight, ladies?"

I look across the lake at the horizon, noting the dark clouds rolling in. Not a night for a bonfire.

"Thelma and Louise?"

"Veto!" Jasper yells from inside the boathouse.

We each get one veto per night when it comes to movie selection.

"Okay, so do we want drama, comedy or horror?" I ask, starting the trek up the stairs, arms full of towels, glasses and books, knowing a storm is on its way.

I look back. "Horror," we all say together.

I love a good horror movie, and nothing is creepier than 70's cinema. We decide on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and then spend about an hour debating the dinner menu.

We usually customize our meals according to the movie of the night, but nothing about a chainsaw massacre is appetizing, so we just go with the Texas theme. Each cabin has an impressive kitchen in the lofty main room. We end up hanging out in Rose's kitchen most of the time. J and I sit on stools at the counter, lazily sipping beers as Rosalie moves around the kitchen, looking through the cupboards and fridge, finding what she needs for fried chicken. If Rose didn't feed us I would exist on frozen pizza and Pringles. In fact, most of the year I do.

We smoke a joint on the porch before dinner, telling stories about when we were kids. The air is hot and electric and the sky is greenish.

My dad calls again around 6 to let me know that Alice will be arriving at 8, so we make enough food for four and settle in to watch the movie. About halfway through, thunder rumbles in from the east.

The storms up here are stellar. Lightning, booming thunder and sheets of rain. Through the massive windows we can see every lightning strike through the sky, illuminating the whole loft. Rose and I share the couch, squealing together at the nasty parts of the movie, which is most of it, and J sits in the recliner, pretending to be irritated at our girliness and trying to hide his own cringing at the gore. Mostly we laugh.

The movie ends and we head back into the kitchen. Rose starts popcorn and I sit on the counter, swinging my legs. Jasper leans up against the counter next to me, impersonating our squealing during the movie while mixing drinks. We pretend to speak in southern twangs and I toss pieces of popcorn at his head.

The knock on the back door startles us all.

* * *

It's silent, except for the corn popping and Rose's eyes grow wide before she remembers that Alice was due to arrive about an hour ago. I hop off the counter, heading towards the door to let her in.

"Alice?"

She's drenched, and looks small in the doorway. Lightning flashes, illuminating her silhouette, as she hunches against the rain pouring down on her head.

"Come in, come in." I reach out to guide her and she lets me, but flinches a little at the contact.

I grab her bags from the doorway and drop them into the tiled entryway. Everything is sopping wet.

"Hey Bella," she says quietly as she peels off her jacket.

Remembering her flinch, I resist the urge to pull her into a hug and instead take her coat to hang on a hook.

"How are you?" I ask.

She looks up and smiles a sad smile. "I'm okay. Glad to get out of the city."

"Well, welcome. Mi casa ... you know."

We leave her bags there to dry off and make our way into the kitchen where Rose and J are perched on stools at the counter, looking curious. I make introductions and watch with interest as Alice perks up a bit upon seeing Jasper. My cousin is handsome. Very. Long and lean with blond curling hair, and bohemian in his eclectic style. He is rocking a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, threadbare from years of wear, and a large American flag-belt buckle on his very expensive worn jeans. It's typical Jasper attire.

He offers her a drink, which she downs in about two gulps, steadying herself with one hand on the counter.

She sets the glass down.

None of us know what to say, so Jasper reaches forward for her glass to make her another. She shies away from his arm as it nears. Jasper gives me a pointed glance.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I say softly, looking at her down turned face.

She shakes her head. "Not really."

I feel so much for this girl. What could take the spark out of someone like Alice? She is always unfailingly positive. She is a spitfire, with a contagious, sparkling laugh. But tonight, standing in her wet, dark clothes, her hair limp around her head, she is sad and not herself, at all.

"My dad is getting the third cabin ready for you tomorrow, but..."

She looks up with wide eyes and says firmly, "I can't stay alone."

I nod, "Then tonight, we slumber party."

Jasper and Rose smile widely, and go to get blankets and pillows. We all pass out in the living room together at least once a week. I suppose we could stay in one cabin all summer, but I like my privacy and enjoy walking around without pants on, honestly. They come back dragging futons. The living room is large enough to lay them next to each other, and we make a sort of nest around us, all down pillows and Egyptian cotton and comfort.

I bring Alice to the closest guest bedroom to change, and borrow pajamas from Jasper, not Rose, for myself, because hers are the kind that require heels and full makeup. We gather, reclining on pillows, but Alice stays upright and clutches her third drink, looking down into it.

Jasper is staring at her. It's rare that he drops the "nonchalant act" around girls. It's his game, and it works. Alice sighs, looking up, sensing all of our eyes on her.

She smiles a little, sipping her drink. "Thanks for this," she says simply.

Jasper gets up then, his jeans hanging off his hips and his t-shirt threadbare on his chest and saunters into the kitchen. Alice watches.

"There is only one thing to cure what is ailing you, darlin'."

He rifles through the liquor cabinet, producing a bottle of whiskey much better than the one we've been drinking with Coke. He grabs shot glasses and strolls back over, setting them on the thick wood of the coffee table. He pours a round and raises his as we grab ours.

"To better days, which are surely coming," he drawls, looking at each of us, but his hooded eyes linger on Alice.

She looks dazed looking back at him, a small smile on her face. Okay, he's still working it a little. I bite back a giggle.

We toss back the shots to complete the toast.

That night we don't hear her story, but we tell ours, in between shots of whiskey and pulls on joints that Jasper rolls carefully, the smoke curling up to the lofted ceiling.

While we talk, I write about chicken, chainsaws, whiskey and weed. And just like that, Alice is part of it all.

We fall asleep, Rose and I on the outside of the beds, while Jasper and Alice lie in the middle, facing each other. The storm persists but doesn't penetrate our bubble. We are whole and good and I hope that Alice feels safe.

Once, during the night, I feel her startle awake, and I snuggle closer, not touching, until her breathing evens out and she seems to fall back asleep.

Everything feels right.


	2. QB1

Chapter 2: QB1

QB1

We watch the progress of the construction crew for the next two weeks. Rose and I also watch Jasper and Alice. He's sweet to her, more than she probably realizes. She's somewhat reserved, but seems comfortable around him.

She still hasn't divulged exactly what happened in New York, but has told us a few things. He was her "first". First boyfriend, first kiss, first everything. He'd been toying with her for years. She read the gossip and saw the pictures of him hanging all over pseudo-celebrity sluts at the bar, but she accepted that part of his lifestyle. Then, she caught him red-handed. Some seedy bathroom shit. She stopped returning his calls, and his voicemails got progressively more intense. He threatened things that she couldn't say, but he must have done some of them, because she finally did cry, on Jasper's shoulder.

"That cocksucking motherfucker." Rosalie shook her head, eyes narrowed, looking ready for a fight.

Alice's shoulders shook and Jasper held her tighter. I shot a warning look at Rose, but when Alice looked up she was laughing through the tears. We all ended up doubled over.

Rose ran to the bathroom telling us to "Shut the fuck _up_!" because we laughed so hard she peed her pants a little, which only made us laugh harder.

It's July 21st, the summer solstice.

"Who the hell is moving in there? It's killing me." Rosalie runs an ice cube down her chest.

The heat wave persists. The temperature hasn't been below the 80's for ten days, even at night. We've taken to taking nightly swims.

"After all this anticipation, it had better be good," Alice voices, running her ice cube down the back of one leg and then the other.

She shivers. I smile inwardly at the innuendo, peeking at Jasper. He is pretending not to listen.

We are all very tan, our limbs a similar golden brown that looks more gorgeous on the Hale twins. Freckles pop up on my nose and shoulders and my hair gets some pretty chestnut undertones, but nothing like my cousins. They are golden gods. The sun mellows the severity of Alice's black hair and pale complexion. She bronzes evenly, as she rotates meticulously on her lounge chair.

We bring her into all of our rituals. She cannonballs off the dock with Rose and me. She gets a movie veto per night. She is hilarious, spirited, and special. She moved into my cabin, Cedar, the night after she arrived, and I've actually enjoyed having the company. She doesn't care if I wear pants, which may have had a huge effect on how I felt about her as a roommate.

"I think tonight we should watch "What About Bob" and moan over the deliciousness of whatever we make for dinner," Alice voices.

"MMMMMMM…" she laughs, moaning exaggeratedly.

Jasper shifts uncomfortably.

"Oh, Fay, this is so scrumptious. Is this hand-shucked?"

Rose and I are giggling.

The night is clear, so after dinner we have a bonfire, trooping down to the beach with a cooler full of beer. Jasper starts the fire and I start the "Name Game". It starts with a celebrity name, and the first letter of the last name dictates who you name.

"Steve McQueen." I look to Jasper.

"Marvin Gaye." He looks to Alice.

"Gary Busey." We all chuckle. To Rose.

"Brad Pitt." Of course.

"Perez Hilton." I say, and get eye rolls all around.

"Harry Houdini." Back to me.

It goes on forever, and we debate the validity of some names and laugh at others.

"Nick Nolte." The ensuing debate about who would win in a fist fight, Nolte or Busey, gets heated. Jasper and I are sitting up in our chairs gesturing wildly, while the other girls collapse in giggles.

"Okay, okay, okay," I say, stopping the fight because I think I won, anyway. "Nancy Reagan. Take _that_, war on drugs," I say, gesturing with the joint in my hand.

"Ronald Reagan," Jasper chokes out, laughing.

Back to me. I think for a second, pausing.

"Ron Jeremy," a voice from behind me says. Not just a voice, but a _voice._ Smooth and instantly trouble.

We all turn to take in the two figures behind us, intruding on our circle.

* * *

The figures step into the light from the fire, and I inhale and hold my breath. My stomach flips, and I swallow hard. They're two boys about our age. One is huge, muscular and cute, and the other is shorter, but not short, muscular and _beautiful. _I swoon internally.

_At least I hope I do. _

His hair is bronze and his eyes are green. His jaw is defined and his skin looks soft. I glance at Rosalie and Alice to gauge their reactions. Rose is smiling up at the big one, who is kinda obviously flexing his muscles and holding a bottle of Patron, eyeing her back. Alice is smiling at them as well, but her body is angled toward Jasper, who is eyeing the competition warily. I stand up and stick my hand out.

"Hi. I'm Bella."

"Nice," the beautiful one nods appreciatively, his eyes sweeping up and down my body, before settling on my tits.

My eyes narrow. With one word he put me on the defensive.

"Thanks?" I withdraw my hand, which has not been shaken, and glare at the big one.

"Emmett Cullen at your service, m'lady," he bows and takes my hand, kissing it.

At least the man has a little charisma. My sneer softens.

"Nice to meet you. This is Alice, Jasper, and Rose."

He takes a seat on the bench next to my blonde cousin and offers up the bottle.

"Patron. Nice."

"Only the best for a girl as beautiful as you."

Her face sets into a fake smile. Like most girls, she hates cheesy pickup lines. She's probably heard more of them in one year than I will in a lifetime, however. This could get interesting.

"How original. Why don't we just get this out of the way? I come here often, I'm a Gemini, and definitely not an angel."

She takes a chug of Patron, letting a little drip down her chin and wiping it off with the back of her hand.

Emmett looks impressed. I'm used to it. Rose is notoriously difficult with men. The type she likes physically are generally not the brightest bulbs, but she longs for creativity and someone who can match her intellectually. It's a tall order, so she settles.

She hands the bottle back to Emmett, who takes a swig and passes it to the bronze-haired one, still standing behind the chairs. I sit down, but keep my eyes off the beautiful boy, who is literally smoldering while he looks back at me. I shift in my chair, looking at everyone else, anyone else.

"This is my brother Edward. Our mom just bought the cabin over there, " Emmett says, gesturing toward the Stanley place.

Edward sits in the chair across from me.

"We've been watching the construction. Looks really good." I smile at Emmett.

"We've been watching the construction _crew_. Hot men. Tools. Nothing better." Rosalie postures, casually stirring her drink with a fingertip.

Emmett is looking at her longingly.

"Where are you from?" I ask, still not looking at the boy, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I self-consciously zip my hoodie up a few inches. It's still hot but I only have my bikini top under it.

"We live in Texas now, but we're from Oregon originally," Emmett offers.

I tell him where I'm from in Washington and we chat about the Pacific Northwest and move on to L.A. when Emmett asks about Rose and Jasper. Alice mumbles a few words about New York, but I can see her unease around the new additions to our group. Jasper unconsciously puts his arm behind her chair.

The conversation moves on, and is actually really easy. Emmett is amiable and kind and funny. They are staying for the summer, like us. Edward just stares at me, or the fire, not talking. Something about the way he looks at me, and the way he just _looks_, makes my stomach dip. At one point I look up and our eyes meet and he licks his lower lip. I let out a shaky breath. He sees and smiles slowly. I'm seriously worried I'm going to pass out.

_What is this? Who am I?_ _Am I that desperate for male contact that someone who shows up, ogles my boobs and is almost totally mute can make me feel like a giddy schoolgirl? He'd said one word. Okay, three words. And two of them were "Ron Jeremy"._

Ew, and yummy, if only because in the Name Game that is comedy gold.

_I need to get a fucking grip. _

I stand up to go get more drinks, but the stairs look daunting. And it's hot. I'm hoping he'll follow me but he doesn't, and in my most inside parts I'm wickedly disappointed.

I trudge to the top and grab more beer. Sweating, I change into one of Jasper's old band t-shirts and look in the mirror. I'm flushed from the walk, but it's more than that. My eyes are shiny and bright. I'm nervous and hopeful, despite myself.

I whisper, "He's a jerk," to myself, like some rational part of me might hear it and intervene.

My boyfriends have all been nice guys. Nice and really, really boring.

I cringe at the memory of my few sexual encounters. Not many of them proved to be…successful. Arms and legs and awkward kisses.

_Okay, stop._

I shake my head and walk back down the stairs.

Jasper and Alice are leaning close and talking quietly.

_Just a matter of time with those two, I think. _

Rose and Emmett are talking football, and I swear I can see cartoon hearts in his eyes. She is lamenting our lack of "ESPN Classics" and he is running down the list of games re-airing this week and trying to impress her with the size of his flat screen. It seems to be working.

Throwing more beer in the cooler, I pass one to Edward, who is just draining the last drops of his first. He lights a cigarette.

"Thanks." Four words. He exhales the smoke, making his eyes squint over at me.

I don't answer, but acknowledge his thanks with a nod.

I feel slightly annoyed at my best friends for pairing off, leaving me with someone who has uttered literally four words to me, but is undressing me with his eyes. Where to start?

"So … how old are you?" I try.

"Nineteen."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he just stares at me.

_Great, he's going to use one-word answers. This conversation will be short and sweet._

"What do you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. School? Work? Vices?" My voice fades off at the end.

I suddenly feel gawky and adolescent under his sure and unrelenting gaze. I want to walk across the fire and straddle his lap, but I can hardly hold a mundane conversation with him.

"I'm a quarterback at Texas A & M."

_Of course._

"Football." I state, grimly. I've dated jocks. Or more, I've fought off the roaming hands of drunk jocks under the premise of being on a date. He nods, kind of looking at me like I'm an idiot.

"Don't be modest, bro. He is _the_ quarterback. QB1." I look up at Emmett, surprised. I didn't realize he was listening to our conversation.

"That's great." I say lamely, mentally smacking my forehead.

Emmett goes on to tell us that he's a defensive linebacker with the Aggies, too. It makes sense. They both fit their positions perfectly.

I take a very large sip of my beer. Some kind of uncharacteristic insecurity kicks up in me. This kid is gorgeous, talented and doesn't seem like a total tool. It would be easier if he were, because then when he rejects me I can blame it on him being an asshole. I'm pretty sure he's an asshole anyway, thinking back to the beginning of our encounter. I take another big chug and take the joint Jasper is passing around. I'm drinking faster than usual, but don't slow down.

My insecurity is soon replaced by a funny, sassy, kinda dirty Bella. Drunk Bella. We are passing the Patron around. Rose and Jasper are telling stories from last month and we are all laughing. Even him. I occasionally say something that isn't too embarrassing, but mostly stay quiet. He relaxes too, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, peeling the labels off his beer bottles, smoking cigarettes. He's looking down at his hands, which I notice are big and a little rough. His arms are cut and he has a little bit of a tan, but looks pale next to us in his black wifebeater. Leaning back and throwing one arm over the back of the chair, he catches me staring again and smirks, quirking one eyebrow. My breath catches in my throat.

Suddenly Alice screams and so does Rosalie.

I jump. I'm startled until I realize that our song is on and I'm being pulled out of my chair and into a girlie dance circle.

"They do this at least once a day," Jasper sighs from his chair, sounding annoyed yet amused.

I can see he's watching Alice spin around with her arms over her head, and wonder if he's seeing it in slow motion in some kind of "Wayne's World _Dream Weaver_" interlude.

We sing into our beer bottles at each other and bump hips. I'm glad no one has a video camera at this point.

The night from there gets a little blurry. Flashes of the beautiful boy's eyes and a bottle of Jack and his hands and Rose and Alice naked…

_Wait_. _What?_


	3. PBR and Pills

Chapter 3: PBR and Pills

I open one eye. Blackness. Realizing after a minute that my head is under a pillow, I lift it up very, very slowly. My eyes are instantly assaulted by bright, stupid lights. I'm sprawled diagonally on my bed wearing my t-shirt and bikini bottoms, no top.

_Weird._

I fumble to the nightstand, chug the glass of water and take a Vicodin. There's no better cure for a raging hangover. I'm aware I have to pee and stumble into the bathroom, wincing at the bright light as I flick it on.

My hair is beyond help. I obviously slept on it while it was wet and it looks like bird is nesting up there. I pick at it lamely with a brush and decide to just shower instead.

I start piecing together the night.

_Drunken girl dancing_ …

… and then nothing.

_Alice and Rose naked? Wait, me naked? _

I dig deep trying to remember_._

_A song by JJ floats through the speakers in the boathouse, and I look down the beach at my two very nude friends, and then behind me at Jasper and Emmett undressing._

_Ew. Jasper. Thanks, brain_.

_Cannonball! Then there was loud laughter and the boy's wet, muscular shoulders. His skin hot even though it's cold in the water._

I touched his skin? My head reels.

_Heads bobbing kinda close and I think I see kissing. He's next to me._

Naked. Holy crap. The memories rush back and my eyes fly open. I get soap in them and rinse, shaking.

_I'm holding on to his shoulder, drunk and unsteady in the water. I feel two hands around my waist as I stumble backwards. When he rights me I look up into that fucking face and I can feel myself grinning. _

"_Thanks."_

"_You're drunk."_

"_Yyyyep." I giggle, throwing my head back._

"_You're beautiful." His voice is serious. I stop laughing and look back at him._

"_But you're drunk, and not my type."_

I remember getting out of the water slowly and carefully, leaving my shrieking friends and Edward in the lake.

* * *

Alice isn't in her room, and I wonder if she spent the night with Jasper.

I need coffee.

My head is swimming and my stomach feels sick, but I'm not sure if it's from the Patron or the rejection. I put on sunglasses and walk out into the sunshine.

I suppose he could have taken advantage of the situation. Our friends were all paired off. We were nude in the water.

I take a long second to regret not remembering his naked body.

_So lame._

I cringe, remembering his words.

_Beautiful. But not his type. _

I do not feel beautiful today. I feel sad and small and sick.

I walk into Cedar to find Rosalie and Emmet making breakfast. Well, she is. He's reenacting football plays for her while she whisks eggs, laughing.

He changed and is just wearing board shorts. They both turn and look at me.

"Good morning, sunshine," Emmett says, shooting me a big smile.

I grumble something along the lines of "fuck off" at them. They snicker.

"You and Edward have fun?" Emmett asks, his eyebrows wiggling. I slide into a chair at the bar and Rose hands me coffee with a smug look on her face. Unbelievably, she doesn't look hungover at all. She looks fresh and perfect as always. Bitch.

"What? Yeah, I guess." I lay my head on the counter, wishing for sweet death.

"When you guys went upstairs you missed the chicken fight and a Journey sing-along." Emmett laughs. He and Ro burst into the chorus of _Don't Stop Believing_ loudly and out of tune.

_Ugh._

"Sorry I missed that," I mumble in response.

My head shoots up off of the bar.

_What the fuck?_

"What do you mean _we_ went upstairs? _I_ went upstairs. Alone."

Emmett and Rose exchange knowing glances, which is really irritating.

"He said he went up to make sure you didn't fall down the stairs or something, but being a caring friend isn't really Edward's thing, if you know what I mean," Emmett says lightly.

"I…didn't know. I was really drunk I guess."

My mind turns over this information.

Why would he reject me and then follow me upstairs? I guess I should be worried, but I'm absolutely positive I didn't have sex last night.

Maybe he just wants to be friends. But then why did he stare at me all night?

My headache increases tenfold.

"Is he always so …" I whine.

"Yes," Emmett interrupts. "Look. Edward is my brother. So…I love him. But he's also kind of a cocky fucker."

"Yeah. I caught that," I replied sarcastically.

He studies me for a second.

"I like you, Bella, so I'm going to give you some advice. Don't do it. The kid is QB1 in a college town obsessed with football. He was QB1 in high school in a town obsessed with football. He's got a weekly allowance that is more than most people make in a month, and when our trust funds kick in…let's just say he won't need to play pro ball to survive. Everyone treats him like a god, and everyone has his entire life. He's got hot girls on his jock wherever he goes, and has been…explicit…about his exploits in the past."

"So he's a man-whore. A rich, man-whore," I state, and Emmett laughs out loud.

"Something like that. He's complicated. Girls even seem to love that part of him," he muses.

_I do. _

_Fuck. _

I let my head sink back down to the counter as Rose slides a plate of cheesy eggs in front of me.

"Protein and liquids, lady. Did you take a painkiller?" I nod. She and Jasper both have an endless supply of pharmaceuticals. Some troubled, L.A. rich kid thing. Not that I'm complaining. We aren't fiends about it, but there was no shortage.

I feel it start to kick in just then. My headache recedes to a mild throbbing and my eyes glaze a bit. I sigh and lift myself up to eat.

* * *

Alice and Jasper emerge from his room a while later looking disgustingly happy.

Not that I'm bitter.

* * *

At noon we decide to brave the beach and the stifling heat, floating on rafts and nursing PBRs. I feel better, at least physically.

I wonder where Edward is and what he's doing. Probably looking in a mirror somewhere. I snicker at the thought, and Alice looks over questioningly. I shake my head.

I'm not about to admit that I'm thinking about him.

Jasper is sitting on the end of the dock with his feet in the water, and he and Alice are grinning at each other like idiots.

_Sigh._

Emmett and Rose are out on the jet skis. I can hear them in the distance, with an occasional whoop from Emmett.

I'm suddenly feeling a little lonely.

Edward jogs up an hour later. He's shirtless, which is hot and cruel. Shirtless and shiny with sweat. His skin would taste salty and my fingers would slide over his abs.

_Crap_.

I pray that my mind will shut up. I am such a masochist.

I force myself to think about something non-sexy.

_Charlie in a speedo_.

Shudder.

He walks up the dock and sits down by Jasper on the side facing me, pulling out his earbuds. I can see him panting slightly, wiping his forehead. He looks down at me.

"Hey."

"Hey," I reply, feeling scrutinized but craving his eyes on me at the same time.

I see him sweep my body, his lips curing up at the corner. I bite my lip and try to keep my breathing steady.

"How was the run?"

"Good. It gets nasty running in Texas. Even though here it's still…really hot." His tongue darts out to lick the corner of his mouth.

I look up at him, an eyebrow raised. He is smiling crookedly. Paddling with one arm, I float over to him and hold up my beer.

"Hold this," I demand.

He takes it, furrowing his brow.

I roll off my raft and into the water. I need the cold to think and to wash his stare off of my skin. I stay under as long as I can, trying to clear my head.

Breaking through the surface, I stand up and make my way toward shore. As I walk up the dock, wringing the water out of my hair, he watches me, and I sit next to him and hold my hand out for my beer without looking at him. He hands it back.

"If you're already having a drink I assume you weren't feeing too shitty this morning?" He's smirking.

_He's always fucking smirking_.

I bristle slightly. "I'm fine. Thanks for your genuine concern. Ass."

He laughs out loud at this. His voice is a little husky, like maybe he's a little hungover too. I sincerely hope he is.

"I suppose I should thank you for not attempting some drunken hook-up while I was stumbling around last night. Kudos to you for not being a total prick," I continue, my words sarcastic but their tone light.

He doesn't respond, so I turn to look at him, taking a breath to resume my insults, but he's leaning close to me and his mouth is by my ear.

"Bella, I _am_ a total prick. And I coulda hit that if I wanted."

His breath on my neck sends a wave of goosebumps down my body. He gets up, running his hands through his hair as he walks down the dock, not looking back.

By the time I recover, he's already halfway to his cabin.

I suppress a very junior high urge to yell "You SUCK!" at his retreating back, and consider my next move.

_Game on, Cullen._


	4. Annie Hall

**A/N:**

**Thanks to Project Team Beta and my twilighted validation beta jajo!**

**In this chapter:**

**Shellfish, champagne and a little innocent banter. xo!**

**Also, I added to the story notes that this contains underage drinking, drug use and lemonade in later chapters. You've been warned!**

**Disclaimer: Twilight isn't mine. Never was. Never will be.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Annie Hall

Bella

Alice, Rose and I are spending the late afternoon doing beauty treatments. Jasper seemed relieved to be given a reprieve from beauty time and went back to Emmett and Edward's to watch a game.

"So what's up with you and Edward? And don't leave out details," Rose asks while smearing blue goo all over her face.

"Not a damn thing. He told me, while I was naked and standing next to him, that I was beautiful but not his type."

"What? That's crazy talk. He was staring at you. Like, staring at you." Alice interjects, her brow furrowing.

She's painting my toenails day-glo fuchsia.

I blush deeply and admit, "That's what I thought, but…no. Believe me, it's not for lack of wanting it."

I'm feeling stupid but know that if there's anywhere I can admit this it's here and now, to these two.

"So, in light of all that, I hope it's not a problem that we invited them to dinner," Alice says lightly.

They both look a tiny bit guilty, but only the tiniest bit. They mostly look happy.

Rude.

"Oh whatever. I think we're going to have to learn to get along…or we'll torture each other all summer. And at this point that's looking to be a distinct possibility. I mean, you should hear some of the shit he says! He's got to be the biggest dick I've ever…"

"He's got to have the biggest dick. That must be what you meant, Bella." He's leaning in the doorway, laptop in hand.

He is not only a cocky fucker but a sneaky fucker too. I smile sweetly and sarcastically at him, my head tilted to the side. I can hear the girls chuckling. I'm really glad I don't have a blue face mask on.

"What's up, Edward?" Rose calls pleasantly to him. "Come in!"

He steps in and surveys the room, giving my bare legs a long look. I'm lying on the floor with them propped on the coffee table, finishing the crossword I was too hung over to navigate this morning.

"New York Times crossword. Frankly, I'm impressed."

"Gee, thanks. Not used to girls with more brain power than it takes to give a blow job?"

He looks around the cabin, walking past the long mantle full of family photos, not answering.

God, he's irritating.

"What can we do for you, Edward?"

I look around for the rest of the "we" and realize that Alice and Rose left the room. I can hear them murmuring in the bathroom. Thanks, friends.

"Our wireless still isn't working, so I was hoping I could use yours to check my email. I normally wouldn't ask…" and he looks like he doesn't want to now.

"It's fine. The password is 'umami'." He looks up, a question on his face.

I spell it out and explain, "It's the fifth taste sensation, sweet, salty, bitter, sour and … umami. It has Japanese roots. The taste is supposed to be subtle and savory."

He stands there, a slow smile spreading across his face as I talk, and types. I'm surprised that this conversation is so civil. I was expecting a snide remark.

I pull myself up off the floor and walk to the fridge, careful not to smudge the toenail polish. I grab a beer and then another, looking to see if he wants one. He nods and reaches across the bar to grab it from my hand.

"Glass?" I ask, and he cocks an eyebrow at me, shaking his head before taking a big swig. I shrug and try to remember where the pint glasses are.

I find them on a high shelf and stretch on my tip-toes but I'm an inch too short to get them. He's suddenly behind me with his hand on my waist pressing me up against the counter. The back of my neck is on fire. He reaches up and grabs a glass for me, releasing my waist and going back to the other side of the bar.

Oh, he's good. He pours my beer slowly and sets it down across rom me. Nice head on that beer.

Hee. Head.

My mind is firmly entrenched in the gutter today.

His hair is in disarray. Casual, sexy disarray. He's wearing a slightly tight grey t-shirt and thin jeans. He is frowning at his laptop, typing intermittently.

"So, what's for dinner?" He catches me staring at his left bicep with my lips slightly parted.

I clear my throat and he smirks.

"You'll have to ask Rose. I don't really cook. I bake. Cookies and cakes…and stuff." I'm flustered, and take a sip of beer.

His next words startle me.

"About last night …" and for a brief second he actually looks sincere.

I interrupt, raising a hand. "No harm, no foul, Cullen. I think you're overestimating your appeal," I lie, and blush a traitorous blush.

Shit.

"Oh, really?" He smiles the crooked smile, and I fume.

Who does he think he is?

He's playing me hot and cold, and doing it intentionally. I'm questioning his motivation. It's quiet then except for his typing.

Where the hell are Alice and Rose?

I look at the time and decide to go change.

"I'm going to change for dinner. Be back in a minute." He nods distractedly and continues looking at his screen.

Walking to my cabin, I wonder why I'm so annoyed.

I change into a short, simple, blue dress and pair it with flip-flops. I hope it looks casual, but I have a feeling that my face is revealing way more than I want it to, regardless of what I put on my body. I look around the cabin as I leave, thinking back to a few days ago, when everything here felt comfortable and nothing induced butterflies in my stomach. Everything is different.

But better, maybe?

When I return, Rose is throwing lobsters in a pot of boiling water, and Alice is upset about the squealing noise they make as the water escapes their shells.

"They're screaming! You murderer!" she laughs, her hands covering her ears.

Jasper is pulling out a bottle of French champagne to put on ice as a chilled one sits ready to be opened. Emmett is teasing Rose with one of the live lobsters, and she shrieks and wiggles in his grip, trying to get away from its pinching claws. No one has noticed me yet. I wonder where Edward is.

"Nice dress, Swan."

I feel a hand on my lower back as he pushes me into the living room. I feel blood rush into my face. If he would quit touching me, this would be a whole lot easier. I can smell faint cigarette smoke surrounding him, and I'm the teeniest, tiniest bit giddy that he remembers my last name.

"Thanks." I don't meet his eye, but walk up to the bar, waiting for J to finish pouring the champagne.

Dinner is heaven, lobster and butter, with mushroom risotto and green beans. Rose and Emmett are at one side of the table and Alice and Jasper are on the other. Edward and I are at the heads of the table. Emmett is straight stuffing his face and looking at Rose like she's a goddess. Jasper and Alice are whispering, and I see him feed her a piece of lobster.

Sigh.

Edward stares at me throughout most of the meal. He and Emmett tell stories about Texas, and when he does I hear a southern accent, I bite my lip, imagining Edward in jeans and a cowboy hat a la Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise. Hot.

We drink 4 bottles of champagne, and I'm relaxed and happy. We laugh a lot.

After dinner, I go out on the deck to look at the moon, holding a half-empty glass and leaning on the wooden railing.

I jump when I hear the flick of a lighter next to me.

"Christ, Cullen. You've gotta quit sneaking up on me," I say, my hand over my chest.

"Sorry," he says simply and unapologetically.

We look out at the lake and I listen to him smoke. Inhale. Exhale. I reach my hand over and grasp his cigarette. He lets it go and watches me take a drag. I look down at it while I exhale.

"I haven't had one in forever. My mom died of cancer, so I shouldn't smoke. But every now and then..." I say, not sure why I'm sharing this pain. I hand it back to him.

"I'm sorry." This time he looks sorry. He looks back out at the lake.

"So...why did your mom choose California?"

"She grew up here. It's not likely that she'll be up here much, but when she is she seems really happy. She's had a rough couple of years." I nod, wondering why but not asking.

"It's my favorite place in the world," I say, swallowing the rest of my champagne, which is getting me bubbly-drunk. "And I've been everywhere."

After my mom died my dad took me on trips with him to Europe, Asia, South America, Africa. But here is where I'm happiest.

Laughter pours out of the cabin's windows and I turn around, seeing everyone in the kitchen.

Why do we always end up in there?

It looks like they've switched to cocktails. I turn to look at Edward and he's looking in as well.

"Emmett and Rose...I hope he's hitting that," he flashes a shit-eating grin.

"God, you really are a prick." I call him a prick for the second time today, shaking my head but smiling despite myself.

I feel like he's moving closer to me. I look over again and this time his eyes are fixed on me.

"Hi," I say stupidly. Dumbass.

"Hi," he says back, not smiling.

He reaches over and smoothes a hair from my forehead.

I want to ask him what the fuck he's doing, but I don't. I just close my eyes.


	5. Slippery When Wet

**Thanks to Project Team Beta and my junior validation beta jajo! Without them, this would be a comma festival, and my Edward would drink beer out of a glass. **

**This is my first lemon. I'm a little shaky and nervous about posting it, but I must! **

**Disclaimer: Twilight isn't mine. **

* * *

Edward

I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't touch her, and I'm having trouble keeping my hands to myself. She's amazing. Beautiful. Funny. Hot. All lips and hair and tits and temptation.

I know I'm confusing her, and it turns me on, because I'm a dick. I've been aware of my power over the opposite sex since I turned 14, and I've abused it. I'm compulsive, and I rarely let anyone stick around for longer than a week or two, at least not as anything resembling a girlfriend. Monogamy is not my thing. At all. No one has ever said no, and I doubt she would, but I feel an unfamiliar sensation in my gut when I think about it.

I wasn't lying when I said I could have had her that first night in the water. She was right there, licking her lips and stumbling. I don't do drunk, though. Well, not that drunk. If I let a girl sleep with me she had better fucking remember that shit. I was worth it. Even so, I followed her drunk ass up the stairs and stood in her bedroom doorway, watching her breathing, her body sprawled out on the bed.

I said she wasn't my type just to fuck with her, I guess. Of course she was. She was everyone's type, a delicious girl next store, but smart and shit-talking.

Underneath all that, though, I'd felt some concern as she lay on her back. She was drunk, and could choke, John Bonham style, if she got sick. My asshole, womanizing, trophy-wife-fucking father was a physician, and I knew she shouldn't sleep that way. So I flipped her over onto her stomach, her skin still cool from the lake. Hair wet and everywhere. My hand brushed against her cheekbone and I walked out, closing the door behind me.

So I've been playing with her since; loving the banter and making her blush, but when she mentioned her mom I actually felt a tiny twinge of sympathy. It had been a long time since I looked at a girl as anything more than a collection of body parts.

I get everyone I want. With her, though, I would actually have to try. My body and my reputation and the sex won't be enough.

So I pulled my hand away from her hair and turn back around toward the lake, effectively ending our moment. I can almost feel her disappointment.

Bella

The next two weeks passed quickly. The couples were happy, and Edward and I danced around each other. I longed for his occasional touches, and hated myself for it. I could see he gets off on seeing me squirm. Damn his stamina. I mean, he's got to be as sexually frustrated as I am, and I can see occasional physical evidence of it, but he has made no move to be anything more than a friend and that makes me extremely hot. Fucker.

On the upside, we've gotten to know each other pretty well. We get left alone a lot. The others have definitely consummated their relationships by this point. Rather loudly, at times. I'm grateful for my own cabin. Jasper and Alice moved into Pine and retreat there often. When I go to Rose's I usually knock now, after finding Emmett going down on her one afternoon in the kitchen.

_Ew. _

Edward is really smart and really funny under the cool exterior. He makes me think, and we are similar in a lot of ways. He asks me a lot of questions. He's interested in the dynamic between Jasper, Rose and I and I tell him I'm jealous that he had Emmett to grow up with, as I always wanted a sibling but had to wait for the summers to see my cousins.

We still meet for breakfast at Rose's, and still do theme dinners and bonfires and all the usual things, but the whole rhythm of our summer has changed. I wake up relaxed as always, but I think of him first. I dream about him. My day starts when I see him. He's still a cocky fucker, but he's evolving into something else in my mind, which is careless on my part. We flirt constantly, and the banter keeps me guessing and excited.

I'm seriously screwed. I'm going to get hurt one way or another, and I know it, and I can't stop.

* * *

It's the fourth of July, and after a brief reprieve from the heat, it's back in the 80's. Jasper is teaching Alice to water ski, and we're cracking up watching them start and stop out on the lake. I can see Mrs. Mallory on her deck, binoculars in hand, watching them closely. Since our group expanded, she has been spending a lot more time spying. It's a little creepy.

Rose and Emmett are on the boat as well; she is yelling instructions to Alice off the back of the boat, and I can see Alice's tiny hands rising out of the water to flick her off. Emmett's laugh booms as he watches the exchange.

Edward and I are lounging on the dock smoking a joint. He's telling me a story about a night in Tijuana with his dumb frat boy friends. Something about a donkey show. Typical. I groan at his antics.

"That's seriously disgusting." I laugh at him, passing him the joint.

"No shit! That's why it's funny, you prude."

"Oh please! The fact that I don't want to hear about a girl fucking a donkey doesn't make me a prude."

He hesitates for a second. "So, do you have a boyfriend in Seattle?" I look over at him. He's not looking at me, but down in the water. In all this time we haven't discussed past boyfriends, or in his case, conquests.

"Nope. I mean I've dated, but the last guy was…ugh." I take a sip off my bottle of water.

"Bad in bed?" he asks me, grinning.

"No! I mean…I wouldn't know."

I sit for a second wondering why I want to tell him this, and I'm not sure, but for some reason I do.

"I'm a virgin."

He doesn't react to that, but hands back the joint. I take a drag.

"I know."

I cough then, long and hard. He pats me on the back until I stop. My face is so red. I catch my breath.

"I guess I know how you know, although I can't imagine _why_ the fuck anyone was talking about that. Well if you knew, then why did you ask if he was bad in bed?" I stare at him, eyebrows raised. Not really mad, but really curious.

"I don't know. I guess I wanted you to tell me that or something. It's…I don't know." He swings his legs off the end of the dock. I'm annoyed.

"Well, yeah. I am. Feel free to commence with the virginity jokes," I bite back at him, looking away.

"Hey, it's not like that. It's actually … a good thing."

I look at him and his face is calm and sincere. Kinda stoned. Fuck, he's hot.

"Thanks? Though it's not really by choice. There was a long time that I wanted to, but all the guys I went out with were too disgusting to consider doing it with." I'd rounded third base a few times, but most of them were so eager to get to home that I had hardly enjoyed it. I usually got dressed at that point.

He grins, and I wonder what he's thinking about. Probably the 8,000 women that he had pleasured this year. "Most guys are," he muses.

"What about you? Any lucky lady at home?" I'm genuinely curious. He hasn't mentioned the name of even one girl in the last few weeks.

His face darkens.

"Not exactly," he says, looking down.

"Not exactly?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Not exactly," he shrugs, not meeting my eyes.

"Okay." I think about this for a while, puffing on the joint. Who was this "not exactly" girlfriend? Or was there more than one; a harem of sluts awaiting his return to Texas? I shake my head, stoned and unable to consider this right now. I stand up, watching Alice fall face-first into the water. Again.

"Hey, B?" He's taken up my nickname, much to my secret delight.

"Yeah, E?" He stands up.

"Wanna get wet?" His face is suddenly inches from mine, and he's looking at me with a sly grin.

My heart stops for a second and butterflies swarm my stomach.

"Wha-?" I ask as he grabs me around the waist and throws me off the dock, jumping in after me.

* * *

That night we party hard. Fireworks flash and crack across the lake and we clap and yell for everyone's, including our own. Bonfires dot the shore in the distance and I'm pleasantly drunk. Charlie and Carlisle were here last week, but couldn't stay for the weekend. They loved the new additions to our clan, and all the boys went fishing both days they were here. Esme is here, but went to bed early, citing a headache. Really, I think she just didn't want to see the debauchery in action.

I'm so happy. Everything I need is right here. I look around at my friends and sigh contentedly. Everyone is distracted, watching Emmett wade out to light another huge firework on the floating dock. Charlie spared no expense buying us a wide array of explosives, much to Emmett's joy and Rosalie's chagrin. She kept saying how she "loves those fingers."

_Again, ew. _

When I reach Edward he's looking back at me. The last few days he's been…intense. I wonder if the sexual tension is getting to him.

We stare at each other for a minute before I smile.

"What's up?"

He smiles back and shakes his empty cup at me. "We're out of drinks."

I look in my empty cup and sigh. I announce I'm going up to make more and I'm surprised when he's following me up the steps. We chat aimlessly, laughing about Emmett and his childlike joy at the fireworks.

Upstairs I whip off my sweatshirt and start slicing limes while Edward grabs the tequila. I slice my finger open while I'm at it. Biting my lip, I run to the sink and turn on the cold water. He's at my side then. My finger hurts, so my eyes tear a little. I feel my cheeks flush because it's only a cut and doesn't look that serious, but he looks so cute grabbing a towel for my finger, glancing worriedly at my trembling lip. He stands there with the towel around my finger and I'm aware that we are really close. I don't cry. My finger still hurts but I'm trying to fight the urge to grab his hair and pull his lips down to mine.

"Let me see," he says unwrapping the towel and inspecting my finger. "It's not so bad, Bella."

He stares at it for a moment more- it's only bleeding a little- and suddenly raises my hand to his mouth and puts the finger in his mouth and slowly slides it out.

All I can see are his eyes and lips; dilated pupils and eyes half closed looking down at me. His hand drops, but my finger lingers on his lower lip. We don't move for a long time. It feels like a year. My body buzzes with anticipation, and I'm aware that we've been standing here for too long, but I can't find it in me to move.

And then he takes a step back.

"Fuck," he says out loud, but looking like he didn't mean to. I'm floating and drunk and every nerve in my body is sparking and alert.

I manage to slap a band-aid on the cut and finish making the drinks, while he stands on the other side of the counter, looking at his hands. We don't talk. It's kind of awkward, but I can't form words, and don't know what I could possibly say right now that wouldn't make it worse.

He brings the bottle of tequila down with us. We get drunkedy-drunk. It's fun, but he and I aren't really talking, and when we make eye contact he looks away. We stay up so late that I start to sober up at some point. It's about 3am when we start back up the stairs. I can see him walking down the beach towards his cabin, his head down. He mumbles goodbye and takes off, with none of our usual banter.

We all go to our separate cabins and I'm disturbed by the quiet in mine. I start to get ready for bed, brushing my teeth, but I'm not tired. It's hot, and I feel sticky and unsatisfied. I grab a towel and head back down to the beach.

The bonfires across the lake are out, and ours is only smoldering embers, so the moonlight is bright and I can see everything. I undress slowly, liking the warm air on my skin. The water is cool as I wade in and dip under. I swim out a ways and float on my back in the still water, staring at the stars.

The splash startles me and I bob upright, an arm covering my chest, my eyes wide. And then I see him swimming out towards me. But then I can see his face under the moon and he's not smiling. I swim in, I'm far out, and meet him where I can touch again. We stand there staring, a few feet apart, and he reaches his hand out, searching in the water for mine. He's beautiful, and he grabs my hand and looks at our intertwined fingers and sighs. Almost sadly. I open my mouth to say something, a question, but his gaze stops me and he pulls me to him gently, his mouth meeting mine.

We don't talk. Our kisses are feverish. His mouth is hot and salty and sweet and when he trails it down my neck I moan quietly, my breath shaky. My arms are wrapped around his neck and I can feel him hard against my stomach.

_Holy shit. _

His hands trail down my back and grab my ass, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around him. I've never been here before, but it feels like home. We stop and stare again, our breath mingling together and I'm fighting the urge to wriggle against him to feel more.

"Do we need…" he starts to ask.

"No. I'm on the pill."

This is really going to happen. I'm shaking. He's solid and warm and I feel safe. Reaching down, I grab him and his eyes close for a second. He's big and I'm small. I'm experienced enough to know that. I worry for a second that he won't fit, but I align us anyway, and we both groan at the pressure in the right place. And then he's lowering me and pushing in, and it hurts and he stops to let me adjust. But I'm ready, and shift my hips. His eyes flutter open and we move together.

Rhythmically and desperately and just…right. Our chests rub together and then he leans me back in the water with one arm, his other brushing my hair back and lingering on my lips. My breath is catching in my throat, and I'm making sounds that will probably be embarrassing later, but I don't care. I'm watching his body, arms flexing and chest taut, and his eyes are on mine and pleading. The wave builds and I come, him following right behind me. We float, still connected, breathing hard and I feel him twitch inside me. He pulls me back up and we kiss again, slow and lovely.

We get out and dry off, sharing my towel. He's amazing in the moonlight, and even though I've felt him naked, I haven't seen him, and looking gets me excited all over again. He comes upstairs with me, and we are holding hands. We lay in my bed face to face all night. We don't talk. We just look and hold hands and kiss and I hope there's more, because I want more. Way more.


	6. Crush

**This chapter is just a little guy, but he packs a punch. I'll submit the next one right away when this one goes up, so you won't have to wait too long!**

**Thanks for reading. No, for real. I love you.**

**Thanks to jajo for being a super junior validation beta! Thanks to Project Team Beta for hooking me up with twanza and sandandsirens, who are taking this story to a whole new level of awesome (or trying really hard to, despite my sentence structure issues and flagrant misuse of words). You two are ze best.**

**Thanks to RoseArcadia for the banner and the forum thread!**

**Disclaimer: Twilight isn't mine.**

* * *

Bella

I wake up late, smiling and feeling like I'm on top of the world. That is until I open my eyes. I'm alone and it's hot, and my stomach clenches as I flash through the last night. I bolt upright in bed.

_Why am I alone_?

I hear water running in the bathroom and relief washes over me as I roll out of bed.

"Edward?" I ask as I peer into the open bathroom door. He grins at me, brushing his teeth with my toothbrush and I can't contain my happiness. I run over and hug him hard and look in the mirror. We look sexed. Relaxed. Together.

I suppress the urge to squeal like a schoolgirl as he grabs my hips and sits me up on the counter. I brush my teeth while he kisses my forehead, eyelids and earlobes. I trail one hand up his shirt and down is chest, hooking it in the waistband of his shorts and pulling him closer.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly.

"What time is it?" I wonder with my mouth full of toothpaste.

"Noon," he says, playing with the ends of my hair. I hop down off the counter and spit in the sink.

"I'm starving," I say, rubbing my stomach through my thin t-shirt.

"Me too."

"I can't cook," I remind him.

"I can," he smiles. I'm impressed, but a bit skeptical. I briefly consider going to Rose's but bet they're done with breakfast, and don't know if I'm ready to face the Spanish Inquisition just yet. I thank god my unused kitchen is stocked.

He makes an omelet while I sit on the counter next to him suggestively eating a banana. We kiss and eat and touch each other the whole time. I'm whole. He's teasing me, but it's not cocky and we definitely aren't just friends anymore.

I don't let myself dwell on this, though. I don't need to define it to make it real, to make last night real.

And the man can actually cook, which makes him that much hotter.

When we finally descend to the beach, our friends break into applause and catcalls. They almost seem relieved, like everything has settled into place. Or maybe I'm projecting.

Either way, I can't keep the grin off of my face. I look over and he has the same expression playing at his lips. We jump in the water and find each other, mirroring our position from the night before and slowly bobbing around in circles.

It's the best day ever.

* * *

July goes fast and I'm happy. So happy it would be annoying if we weren't surrounded by equally happy people. Edward and Emmett have practically moved in with us, spending every night at our cabins. We do everything together. It's bliss.

In the back of my mind, though, I'm acutely aware that this will end in a few weeks. We all have to get back to school and Edward and Emmett are going to have to go back early for the start of football practice. We try not to talk about it, but when early August arrives, I can feel the sadness in our daily activities. It's like the date reminds us that time exists, and is going by fast. I start to notice that we have awkward silences when we're all together, and we don't laugh as much. Edward and I spend more and more time alone, and so do the other couples. I wonder if we're trying to get our fill before it ends.

I start to wonder about Texas and if I would like it there, but Edward doesn't bring it up. I try not to let it hurt, but it does a little. I have the means and the grades to get into any school I want. I don't live that close to my dad anyway, so a few extra states wouldn't be that big of a deal. I consider what's tying me to Seattle, and wonder how tied he is to Texas, but we don't talk about it. It just sits there.

A few days later at breakfast Alice announces she's moving to L.A., and Rose announces she's moving to Texas. I'm so happy for my friends that I cry and hug them.

I don't have an announcement.

That afternoon I'm in the kitchen making lunch - it's been determined that I can be trusted with sandwiches. Rose and Jasper come in from the beach, bantering back and forth about something or other, as usual. Jasper gets a beer from the fridge and leans against the counter. Rose sits watching me spread mustard on the bread. It's weirdly quiet, especially with the two of them in the same room. I look up and find them appraising me.

"What?" I say, a little annoyed. There is pity in their faces, like the way people looked at me after my mom died.

"Bells, we're just a little worried about you, that's all," Rose starts. I hate the maternal tone in her voice.

"And why is that?" I snort. I realize that I sound like an insolent teenager but can't stop. I use excessive force to screw the lid back on a jar of pickles.

Rose is speaking quietly, like you would to a scared animal. I'm known for being a little bit of a hothead and I recognize that she's trying to avoid pissing me off. It's not working.

She looks sideways at Jasper and continues, "Shit. Okay, so Emmett has been telling me some things about Edward, and how things are in Texas, at school and stuff, and I'm just wondering-"

"Seriously?" I interrupt. "You think I don't know this? Look, I'm not moving there. We haven't discussed it. At all. As far as I'm concerned this is just a summer thing," I lie, my chest aching despite my defiant tone.

Her voice hardens then; I can see that the Swan temper is going to flare, regardless of her attempts to keep me calm. "I know you, Bella, and I see the way you look at him, and I just want you to be prepared." She doesn't say for what, but it doesn't matter, because I know.

"Yeah, well I am. So just … whatever." I grab the sandwiches and go back down to the beach. I'm not hungry anymore. He's sitting in a lounge chair, maybe sleeping. He doesn't look up when I sit down on the dock across the beach. I watch him for a while and this icky, uncertain feeling that I've been suppressing, settles into my chest. I think I'm trying to figure out what he is, who he is. The person that I met last month isn't the same person sitting on the beach. He looks up just then.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" He strolls over, a little sweaty from the sun, picking me up and kissing me hard.

Rose and Jasper come down the stairs and I don't look at them.

That night for the first time in a month Edward and I don't have sex. We just hold each other all night. I have a hundred things to say and two hundred questions, but no words. I can't sleep.

The next day is the worst day ever.

Tanya looks like a supermodel. Her accent twangs and her cutoff shorts hang on her hips just right. She shows up that morning, running down the beach from Esme's cabin and into Edward's arms.

* * *

**Review me!**

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	7. Stranger Danger

**This one is going to hurt. I apologize, even though Edward won't.**

**You all are so rad. Thanks for being you.**

**Thanks, as ever, to jajo for kicking booty as my junior validation beta. Thanks to twanza and SandandSirens for betaing the hell out of my chapters. Thanks to Project Team Beta for guiding a new kid through this whole process. Thanks to RoseArcadia for the banner and the thread. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

* * *

Bella

I'm helping Rose bring down a cooler, and we watch as a strawberry blonde runs down the beach toward our cabins as we make our way down the stairs. At first I'm just wondering who she is, as she hugs Emmett and Edward. Rose stiffens slightly at this and we slow our pace about halfway down. Then the unwelcome tramp turns back to Edward and kisses him full on the lips. I drop my half of the cooler on my foot.

"Fuck! Ow!" I yell, despite not really wanting anyone looking at my flushed face at that moment. Edward makes a move to come up the stairs, but something in my face must stop him, because he hesitates with one foot on the bottom step. His face goes blank and he makes no move to come further. My eyes flicker to Alice and Jasper where they stand, looking shocked. Emmett looks guilty and a little scared. I don't look back to Edward. My tears well up as Rose moves the cooler off my foot and turns to help me back up the stairs.

"I'll take care of her. Be right back." She calls behind us, I know she's trying to keep it light, but the strain in her voice is obvious.

"Is she okay?" Tanya twangs as we walk back up. "You're dad is a doctor-- you should go make sure she's okay, Edward." I don't hear his response.

We walk into Rose's cabin and my foot doesn't really hurt anymore. I storm to the bathroom with Rose behind me and she shuts the door quietly. I put both hands on the counter, looking at the floor.

She just stands, waiting.

"Who the FUCK is that?" I yell, tears streaming now. With the dam broken, Rose grabs me in a hug. "I don't know," she says over and over, stroking my hair and rocking me gently.

"She fucking kissed him. On the lips! And he stood there and kissed her back."

"There's an explanation. There's got to be. If Emmett knew about this and didn't fucking tell me I'm gonna…"

"No. No. Not his fault. He might have known, but it's not _his_ 'not exactly' girlfriend." Rose looks like she wants to ask what the hell I'm talking about, but thinks better of it. I'm just standing there crying and staring blindly, seeing nothing but the two of them connected at the lips. I start to feel a little sick. She digs through an overnight bag and presses a little blue Xanax in my hand.

My voice is small and I squeak out "Do you think they…is she…?" I don't finish. I know the answer. She hands me a glass of water, and I swallow the pill, eyes closed. My hand shakes and she takes the glass back.

There's a knock on the door.

"It's me." Alice comes in and sits down on the edge of the tub. I've stopped crying at this point, but my eyes feel puffy and my head hurts. My anger is being replaced by sadness that is making my stomach hurt.

"What the hell is going on?" Rose demands of Alice.

"Her name is 'Tanya'. I fucking hate that name," Alice spat out. "And she's from Texas, hence the stupid fucking southern accent. Apparently she and Edward are … close." She looks at me, offering a hopeful smile. "He didn't introduce her as his girlfriend or anything, though." I roll my eyes.

"I need to be alone." My voice is firm and flat.

"You need to talk to him. Who knows what the story is?" Alice murmurs quietly. I nod.

"Oh, yeah. We're going to talk, but I need to get it together first."

They leave, hugging me first. I sit for a long time. I'm numb. I know anger will follow the numbness, but that's okay, because it's better than the crying.

When I get up I avoid the mirror and open the bathroom door. No one seems to be at Rose's, which is just as well. I walk quickly out the door and to my cabin, looking at the ground.

I take a shower and don't cry.

I get dressed and don't cry.

I put on a dress and makeup and do my hair and don't cry.

I look in the mirror and note that I look pretty good for someone who just had her heart stomped on.

_But maybe that's the Xanax talking._

I raid my own liquor cabinet, for once, and mix a really strong Grey Goose and club soda.

I don't know where to go. Rose's? Not sure if I can handle the pitying looks. Esme's? Not sure if I want to find Edward and Tanya together, and I'm not sure what she knows. I do know I need to talk to him, though.

My drink goes fast and I make another, and for the time resolve to get a buzz on and just…wait.

Halfway through my drink, and my favorite Bon Iver song, he shows up. He doesn't knock, but just stands with his hands on either side of the screen door.

"Come in." I'm sitting at the counter. I don't look up when he strolls in and leans against the counter on the other side of the kitchen.

"Look … I didn't know she was coming," he says, sighing.

"But you _did _fucking know she _existed_, right?" I ask, looking up for the first time. He has his hands over his eyes and looks frustrated. I walk around the island and stand in front of him. My hands are twitching. I want to slap his hands away from his face.

He stands there, looking all angry, which makes me laugh, because this is my fault. I put myself here. I'm an idiot, so I laugh at myself.

When the laughter dies down I back up until I hit the counter across from him. He's furrowing his brow at me, looking confused. We stare at each other for a few beats, and I can't stop the questions from rushing out of my mouth.

"Who is she?"

"An old friend."

"Who you kiss occasionally?"

"I guess you could put it that way."

I suppress a gag.

"She's just here to visit. It's not that big of a deal. I mean, I would see her when I got back to school anyway, so what's the difference?" He touches on the subject we've been avoiding. I flinch like he hit me.

His casual attitude, feigned or not, makes me bite my tongue to keep the angry tears at bay.

"You're right," I nod, hoping to look indifferent, but failing to keep the hurt out of my voice. He seems irritated and I wonder if I'm overreacting. I start to feel dumb. I want to run up and throw my arms around him and forget the whole thing, but he isn't looking at me the same way he did this morning.

"I'm going to take a nap." I say quietly. I'm hoping he takes a step toward me, or reaches out his hand, but he doesn't.

"Kay. I'll see you later," he says, without a trace of the pain I'm feeling.

He walks out the door, not looking back.

He's a stranger to me.

* * *

Edward and Tanya don't come to dinner that night, and I feel sick. Emmett has some insight into the situation, but none of it really makes me feel better. They had been friends since high school and then hung out in college. She stuck around longer than most girls Edward hangs out with, which makes me feel like trash, but Emmett doesn't think that they're serious.

I realize that she's probably not his girlfriend, which is much worse, she's one of a hundred girls that he's fucked. I fall asleep wondering if that's why he doesn't want me to move to Texas, because he doesn't want me to have to face the reality of who he is. Or maybe because he wants to keep being that person. Rose and Alice sleep in my bed with me, and I feel bad that they aren't with their boys, but I need them right now.

Tanya only stays for 4 days, but it's an eternity. I'm civil and I smile when appropriate, but I want to rip her throat out every time she talks. I'm disgusted when she touches Edward. My skin crawls in her presence. He and I ignore each other, and it's like the beginning all over again without the promise of more. My sunglasses are permanently affixed to my face so my eyes don't betray me.

I don't really see anything romantic between them; they seem more like friends.

_Like fuck buddies. _

I'm constantly nauseated. She tells endless stories about Texas, reminding me that I hardly know him. I get the feeling that she knows about us, though, because I catch her looking at me a lot. She's fucking smug.

I wait it out. I stew in my anger. It's ugly, and finally comes to a head. We're having dinner at Rose's on Tanya's last night there, and for some reason Tanya is looking at me like that cat that ate the canary. She has been all night.

_Fuck. Off. Whore._

I'm wishing it were appropriate to wear sunglasses indoors at night.

"…so Edward and I are at this bar we always go to? Jerry's?" Everything out of her mouth is a question. I'm feeling stabby. "And we meet this girl there who was 'Playmate of the Month' last February," Edward's face blanches and he holds a hand up, "and we end up having a threesome in the bathroom…" she cackles.

"Holy shit, Tanya. Shut up!" Edward's voice is loud and echoes in the suddenly silent room.

"What? I mean we did? Just before you left to come up here?" she laughs again and looks around at the rest of the table before grabbing her wine glass and sitting back in her chair, looking properly chagrined.

He gets up and mumbles something about having a cigarette. I follow. I hold out my hand and he lights me one. We stand looking out at the lake.

"I'm sorry about that," he mumbles, but he sounds resigned. I realize that he hasn't apologized for any of it, and that what he is apologizing for right now isn't that important to the big picture. I identify the feeling overtaking me as complete and total rage.

"I really hope this is a huge misunderstanding, Edward." I say sharply. "Otherwise I can't imagine how the fuck you can live with yourself right now. I'm not a complete moron. I get that you have a history, but I thought we could move past it. That sure would be a lot easier without all the fucking gory details."

He takes a drag, rolling his cigarette between his fingers as he exhales. I drop mine with a hiss into a half-empty beer that someone left on the railing. He keeps his eyes on the lake. My anger falters, and is replaced by insecurity, and want. I do my best not to show it.

"So, are you together now, or am I just being totally paranoid?"

He just fucking stands there.

Realization rushes over me, cold and heavy on my skin.

"Oh my god. You fucked her. Now? Here? Didn't you?" I hate the sound of my voice. It's high and shaky, when I need it to be strong.

He just fucking _stands there_.

"I thought…" I start and he turns to face me. His eyes are dead, but he's smirking. I feel like someone is stabbing me in the heart.

"I told you I was a prick."

I leave the next day.

* * *

**You may want to hurl sharp objects at me right now, but I suggest channeling that anger into something healthy, like writing a review. Heh.**

**Also, please note that I am a fan of a strong female character, so don't worry about Bella. She'll pull it together and redeem herself for not slapping the crap out of Edward. **

**Oh, and I LOVE Southern accents. I swear to you, I do, but if I was Bella in that moment, I would have hated every fiber of Tanya's being. Plus, I'm from the midwest, so I don't get to make fun of the way other people talk. Period. **


	8. Cannoli and Chianti

**I love you guys! I love you for hating my Edward, and for giving me the benefit of the doubt. Having people invested in this pushes me to make it better, and I love the forum debates! **

**Thanks to my JV Beta jajo, who is the bees knees. Thanks to my betas twanza and SandandSirens, who have been incredibly supportive and kind, while giving me the necessary tools to make this work. Also, read their fics, because they're fabulous! Thanks to RoseArcadia for the banner and the forum thread.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

* * *

Edward

This is what I do. This is what I am. I don't have relationships. I fuck for _fun_.

I tell myself this as I let Tanya unzip my pants, as I look down at her down on her knees; as she rolls on the condom.

I think I almost started to believe Bella's version of me, but I will remember her face on the stairs and her eyes on the deck that night. I have a vivid mental image of the moment that she realized the truth, and it makes me sick, because the way things really are - the way I really am - is disgusting.

I warned her the first day. I'm pretty sure Emmett did too. He usually takes it upon himself to give the nice ones a heads up.

I know our relationship can't go anywhere. We don't know each other outside of this lake- this summer. She can't come to school with me, where it's like The Land of Fucks Past. It would kill her. If she had even one person to rub in my face, I would kill him, which I realize is completely fucked up, considering what I just did to her.

I can't change. I won't. I will be my father. I don't fit this part I've been playing for the last month.

The last time I saw Bella, she was backing away from me on the deck, searching my face for compassion, or maybe love. Finding none, she turned and ran down the stairs off of the deck, into the dark. Rose and Jasper must have been watching, because their screen door slammed open and both of them paused to stare at me before they ran off after her. Her eyes were hateful and full of tears. His were more understanding, but not in a comforting way, it made me feel like I'm being stripped down and exposed.

I got rid of Tanya as soon as possible the next morning, and booked a ticket for myself for the next day. I couldn't stay. Emmett didn't talk to me, even when I was leaving for the airport.

Now that I'm back at school, I go out and do the things I always do. I'm revered; the prodigal son returned home.

I can have anything, or anyone, I want.

But I can't sleep, and nothing seems good anymore.

* * *

Bella

For a week I do nothing. I hardly sleep or eat. I breathe, but only because it just happens.

After hate and pain and self-loathing there's ... nothing.

I love it.

I realize that I stopped writing, something I used to do every night before Edward came into my life. I search through my journal, the first time frantically, looking for any words about him. The second, third and hundredth time I look, it feels like being in a room where something monumental happened, after everyone has gone home. The words are insufficient, and there aren't enough, almost as if entire pages were ripped out, leaving only the beginning and the end of the story.

I pull it together by the beginning of September, and am a mostly functioning human being.

_Mostly._

Rose doesn't move away to be with Emmett. He's devastated, and I keep telling her to go, but she says its like "Edward tainted the entire fucking state of Texas", and now it feels wrong. Emmett flies in almost every week to be with Rose and every once in a while he looks at me apologetically. His pity makes me feel pathetic.

I'm miserable and alone in Portland, so I transfer in late to UCLA and move into Jasper and Rose's house. Alice is there, fighting with Rose about the placement of furniture and her color scheme. It should be so fun, but I hardly register the change of scenery. Everything around me is the same, but horrible and different at the same time.

I understand my part in the breakup now, if you can even call it that.

He said he had an _almost_-girlfriend.

_True. _

He said he was a prick.

_True. _

We didn't discuss the future.

_True, true, true. _

I think of the last night we spent together. There was no sex - just us together. I physically cringe. It was kind of a goodbye, whether or not I knew it at the time. I was a naive virgin who got burned, but I'm not stupid enough to think I'm unique. I've known this type of guy a thousand times. They were in junior high, high school and college, and I assume many of them make it to adulthood, still being fucking pricks. They do, and they are.

I seek them out, craving the shallow, joyless interactions and the fulfilling burn when they walk away.

He ruined me. I'm ruined.

So I ruin myself more because it doesn't really matter anymore, and some sick, fucked up, depraved part of me does it because it's what he's probably doing to someone else right now.

I hang out at lame college bars and do shots and dance with faceless men. I've taken to wearing clothes even Rose wouldn't.

The night she finds me passed out on the front porch is the last straw. I'm hostile when she wakes me up until I realize where I am. She spends the night and morning sobering me up, and makes me tell her exactly what happened.

Luckily, I didn't get completely plastered until _after_ I mess around in the bathroom of a shitty bar with some dumb frat boy.

_"What's your name?" he asks, his lips at my neck and hand up my shirt, groping inexpertly._

_"Just call me B." _

_"Alright, B. God, you're so hot."_

_I don't know why I tell him to call me that, because I immediately bristle, and push him back and hop down off of the counter._

_The back of my skirt is wet from the leaky sink that I sat next to while we made out, and I have to dry it with the scratchy brown paper towels from the dispenser. For some reason this depresses me so much that I decide to do a whole shitload of tequila shots. Frat boy is actually decent enough to have a cab drop me off at home, where I promptly pass out before I make it to the door._

Rose puts her foot down after that night, and announces that I will not only be going out with a chaperone at all times, but I will be going back to therapy, which I haven't done since after my mom died. She plays the chaperone comment off as a joke, but somehow every time I leave the house, I'm not alone. It's actually really nice.

For the most part, I'm normal, and seem like my old self. I smile, laugh and get good grades, but I bet those who know me best can tell the difference.

* * *

Thanksgiving arrives and I'm ready to go home. Rose and Jasper are staying in town and going to Carlisle's. Emmett is flying in the weekend after the holiday to spend it with them, because the Aggies have a game on Thanksgiving. Alice and I ride to the airport together, but she's heading to New York for the holiday.

I don't ask about Edward and no one volunteers the information. He seems like a figment of my imagination. I know he's somewhere, existing, but I can't imagine what it looks like.

I fly into Seattle late the night before Thanksgiving, and I find Charlie at baggage claim waiting for me. He looks tired, but good. We hug and he chides me for being too thin. I'm forcing myself to eat these days. I'm never hungry, but Rose still cooks extravagant dinners hoping to capture my interest. I know she and Jasper have been talking to my dad about me the past few months. He knows things that he wouldn't otherwise, and has been calling just to "chat" more and more.

It's cold, but his truck is still warm. I pull my scarf tighter around my neck and snuggle into the seat.

"How have you been?" He's looking at me out of the corner of his eye in the car.

"I'm good. Kinda tired." I can tell my answer isn't going to be good enough.

"Bells, I don't know exactly what's going on with you, but I know something is, and I want you to let me help you."

I'm trying not to snicker. I know he means well, but how can I explain this to my dad? I imagine myself saying "I'm in love with a boy who took my virginity and now he doesn't want me anymore and I'm really, really screwed up about it." He didn't at any point in my adolescence attempt the sex talk with me, and I'm perfectly happy to keep it that way.

"I know. But I just need time, I think."

He nods in response and lets it go, but I can tell he's frustrated.

I'm looking forward to this break from all of it. Charlie will be here but he works through holidays most of the time, so I'll have a lot of time to myself.

Thanksgiving day, I watch whatever game Charlie puts on the TV and pretend I know or care what's going on. That is, until it's the Aggies are playing the Longhorns, and he's on the screen in front of me, looking determined and intent and like a leader. It's sick, because it still makes my heart race. They pan the crowd of thousands cheering for their team, and I see how I don't fit into that. When Charlie realizes what's on, he turns the TV off quickly and gets up, and suggests we go out to eat. I obviously don't cook, and neither does he, so we go to the diner for turkey roll and canned cranberry sauce every year.

I spend a few days on the nearby reservation with old friends while I'm here, catching up. I walk in the woods alone and read books I'd forgotten I had. At some point I realize that I'm actually feeling better. The closer I get to going back to L.A. the more I'm looking forward to it. We don't have the heart-to-heart talk that Charlie may have been wanting, but he looks satisfied when I eat an entire steak at dinner one night, and enjoy it.

The holiday is over too fast, and I have an acute pain in my chest when I leave my dad again. I miss him so much, and have been so self-absorbed lately. He makes me promise to come to the lake for Christmas. I hate committing to it, but I do.

Jasper picks me up at the airport. Alice won't be back for a few days. We chat about my trip, and the turkey that Rose made. Something seems a little off, though, so I ask him what's wrong.

"Nothing's wrong. I mean, not exactly," he's hesitant.

"Spit it out, J."

"So this weekend, it was me, Ro, my dad and Emmett....and Esme and Edward too." My skin goes cold and I swallow hard.

"What?"

"My dad and Esme met at the cabin last month. They were both up the same week and...they are kinda together now." I just sit there, looking unaffected on the outside, but my mind is racing, trying to figure out what this means.

I'm pissed, because I didn't know and now I know I'll definitely have to see him. We go to the lake every Christmas, the whole family, which now includes Emmett and Esme, and probably Edward. TV is one thing. Real life is another.

"I'm really sorry, B."

He is.

"I know everything is always about me, but this is...so fucked up," I say, closing my eyes and putting my face in my hands.

He laughs, "Both true statements."

We don't talk for the rest of the ride, and I don't cry, but he reaches over and holds my hand anyway.

* * *

Emmett is still there when we get back to the house, and he picks me up and gives me a big bear hug. The butterflies in my stomach are back for the first time since August. I'm not ready to think about what that means yet.

He whispers "I'm sorry," before letting me go. "This shit's crazy, right?"

"That's an understatement." I laugh, and it feels okay, because this is messed up but we're all in it together.

I find out that Rose and Jasper didn't know about Esme and Edward coming to Thanksgiving until the day everyone arrived, and that Emmett knew for a few days before that but was sworn to secrecy. Rose says Edward's name like she's spitting out something rotten. This doesn't surprise me, but I'm curious as to what happened. No one mentions him again after that, though. Instead of lowering myself to ask, I imagine different scenarios in which Rose unleashes her inner bitch upon seeing 'Fuckface', her new nickname for him, in the flesh.

That night we watch _The Godfather_ and Rose makes spaghetti and meatballs. We sip red wine and Emmett impersonates Marlon Brando for the rest of the night, which is alternately hilarious and irritating.

I'm awakened the next morning by Rose shrieking my name and running in with her laptop.

She shoves me over to sit down, plopping the laptop on my lap. I'm still half asleep, and thinking of ways to get Rose out of my room, but I wake up immediately when I see the screen.

Perez Hilton is plastered with mug-shots of Royce King, who Perez has covered with his signature illustrated penises and rude comments. Scrolling down, there are paparazzi photos of him in front of a restaurant in New York, and they have graphic photographic evidence of Alice kicking the _shit_ out of him. There's a shot of her kneeing him the balls, and one where she's punching his face, with her big ring flashing. She's kicking his shins and slapping his head and neck, and at the end of the sequence there are a few shots of a big bouncer type trying to pry her off of him. We sit there with our jaws hanging open for a good minute before we start laughing.

Rose starts frantically calling Jasper, Alice, Emmett, or basically anyone who will pick up. She gets Alice's voicemail.

"Jesus, Alice! Where the hell are you? We just saw you on Perez, you need to call us right now and give details! You are _such_ a bad ass."

Jasper finally answers his phone, and we find out that she was meeting her parents for dinner, and Royce saw her and approached her. When she refused to get in his limo he grabbed her arm, which triggered some latent rage, and she went totally psychotic on him. Someone called the cops, probably to rescue him from the "midget ass-beating", but he was ultimately arrested on drug charges. Apparently he was on probation already, and was obviously fucked up, so they searched him and found "enough cocaine to kill a horse".

One lucky paparazzo captured all the action.

Now all kinds of information is coming out about him. Past girlfriends are coming forward and reporting physical and mental abuse. They're digging deep into Alice's past and she's on every gossip website. Even legitimate news sites are reporting it. Jasper's picture starts popping up, and he's being portrayed as the hero who rescued her from the monster Royce King.

The stories are littered with half-truths, but it's funny to see pictures of Jasper, Rose and I walking into a coffee shop or the grocery store. Once we are identified as his sister and cousin, the accusations that he's cheating on Alice from across the country subside, and retractions are printed.

When she comes home a few days later we have to put up blackout curtains on the first floor and park in the garage so we can get to and from school without being harassed.

While high profile and stressful, the experience seems to be cathartic, and Alice's therapist thinks that while her method was unconventional, beating Royce's ass has ultimately been good for her.

The distraction is good for me, but the holidays are approaching fast, and no one mentions whether or not Edward will be at the lake for Christmas. I feel pathetic asking if he'll be there, but I need to, knowing I can't go into it blind. I finally ask Rose and Alice one morning, all of us standing around waiting for the coffee to brew. Rose nods, sitting still and watching my reaction. I shrug.

"Esme is insisting that both of the boys are there. She obviously doesn't know what happened between you two, and my dad knows about as much as she does, so I don't think they're concerned." Rose puts her arm around me and squeezes my shoulder.

"Are you going to be okay?" Alice asks gently.

I nod, hoping I look more confident than I feel. I know he doesn't feel the way I do at all, and doubt this has been as hard for him as it has for me, if it has been hard for him at all.

I lie awake in bed that night, imagining what it will be like seeing him again. I decide to put up a good- no, a great- front. He won't see one tear, or one frown, or one clue that I'm unhappy without him.

Alice seems to have the same idea, but her methods are more related to my wardrobe, skin tone and bikini line.

I am plucked, dyed, waxed, and buffed within an inch of my life for the next month.

The waxing is quite an experience. Alice stands on the outside of the curtain during the process, spouting off motivational phrases.

"When you look good, you feel good!" she chirps. I don't tell her, but I hope that's true. I hope that my inside will mirror the outside at some point. Therapy is helping, and this seems like a good step.

I let out a shriek as the sadist, waxing my most sensitive area, rips off a strip.

_Fucking Alice._

She outfits me in new everything, all my usual, casual style, but in brands that I've never heard of and in fabrics that are incredibly soft and expensive looking.

Part of me wants to completely devastate him by looking so good that he realizes what he's missing and grovels on his knees, begging for another chance. I'm aware that this probably isn't going to happen. More realistically, I just want to show him that what he did didn't destroy me, and if it takes countless hours and a fair amount of pain so he can see it in my perfectly manicured nails and smooth skin, it's totally worth it.

I've got it together. I'm ready to see him.

* * *

**Little nervous about this one, so I'm going to go mix a very strong cocktail and read some of my favorite fics to take my mind off of it. Let me know what you think!**


	9. Shenanigans

**Here it is, dear readers. Enjoy. Next chapter will be completely Edward POV, and I'll be posting a teaser on my Twilighted forum thread in the next 24 hours, so come see me over there!**

**Thank you, thank you to my JV Beta jajo! Thank you to my sensational betas twanza and sandandsirens, who make my words sing. Thanks to RoseArcadia for the banner and thread, and for pimping me when I'm too nervous to do it myself. Also, many thanks to the readers who post on my forum. You make me smile, my friends.**

* * *

Bella

It sounds like bullshit, but I think I really am ready to see Edward. I know it's going to be painful, but it's reality, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about that.

I'm flying to the lake from L.A. with Jasper, Rose and Alice on Christmas Eve day. Carlisle is already there, and Charlie will arrive at about the same time as us.

The night before we leave, I call Charlie to confirm our plans. He tells me that the Cullen clan is already at their cabin. I hope he doesn't notice how strange my voice sounds when I respond, but it's hard to talk around the lump in my throat. I let the anxiety go as quickly as I can, knowing that my emotions are going to be running wild during this trip, no matter how prepared I feel.

Rose rents a car when we land at the airport and start the long drive out to the middle of nowhere. I know they're watching me, so I laugh and joke along with them to reassure them that I'm okay. I feel good. Nervous, but good.

Charlie and I share my cabin for the holiday, like we have for years. Carlisle is staying with Esme, and the other couples shack up together in their respective cabins.

Charlie and I walk to Rose's for dinner where she's making egg nog and checking to make sure the decorations are sufficient, while Emmett starts a fire. Esme and Carlisle are curled up chatting with Jasper and Alice, and they look so perfect together that I have to smile. I go and greet them with hugs, and then turn to hang up my coat, but run smack into Edward, who catches me by my arms before I fall the fuck over.

I silently thank Alice for the torturous beauty treatments, because we're only about a foot apart, and I can see every detail of his face, and assume he can see mine just as well. I notice that he looks tired and the skin under his eyes is purplish, like he hasn't been sleeping. His face is slightly drawn, too, and it looks like he's lost weight. My hands clench inadvertently, and I notice that I'm holding onto his arms. I release them, wishing I could run my hands up to his shoulders, feeling the dips and peaks of his muscles to see if they're the same.

I take a deliberate step back and force my lips into a smile.

"Hi," I smile and wait for a response. He just stands there staring at me, so I turn slightly to put my coat on a hook, hoping he'll say something before this gets really awkward. I feel like everyone is watching our exchange. I look back at him, stiff smile still in place.

"Bella," he says finally, seeming to regain composure. My cheeks flame against my will. "Nice to see you again." His voice is honey and sex, but his tone is cold and formal.

I nod, summoning every ounce of strength I have to look confident and slightly aloof. "You too, Edward."

He breaks out his crooked grin and I have to walk away, because I'm getting weak-kneed. I'm pissed at myself for it, but I'm not surprised. I get a drink and down it in record time. Rose is watching me carefully and pours me another.

She whispers, "Get a head start, but don't go totally balls out. You'll regret it."

She's right. Getting drunk won't make this any easier. Edward is joking with Emmett by the fire, and I think this is how it's going to be; he and I on opposite sides of the room, pretending we never happened.

During dinner, Charlie and Carlisle tell stories about Jasper, Rose and I and our mothers, and Esme tells stories about Emmett and Edward as kids. I'm not sitting anywhere near Edward, so our eyes only meet a few times. I'm acutely aware of his presence in the room, though.

I don't drink too much, and I don't get sentimental despite the reminiscent tone of the night, and the fact that I'm seeing Edward for the first time in months. We all head back to our respective cabins without incident. I feel relief coming off of Jasper, Alice, Rose and Emmett when we leave, and I sink into my bed and write in my journal. When I'm done I take a sleeping pill prescribed by my shrink, because the thought of lying awake letting my mind run in circles terrifies me. I fall asleep quickly.

In the morning we meet to open presents and eat brunch. Rose made all of our favorite breakfast foods, mimosas and coffee. I grab a mimosa and sit down at the empty table, seeking out the crossword in the paper.

Edward walks in, shrugging out of his coat and accepting a mug of coffee from Rose, who eyes him warily as he walks towards me. He sits at the table across from me, crooked smirk in place. He doesn't look any more rested than he did last night.

"Morning," he says.

"Morning," I reply, glancing up at him quickly before looking back at the paper.

"So, how have you been?" he asks casually, as if we are distant acquaintances. As if there wasn't a time when we were wrapped around each other completely.

I'm suddenly very irritated, but I keep my eyes on the crossword, trying to make sense of the words on the page, and trying not to dwell on my swinging emotions.

"Great. I've been just great." I attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It doesn't work. "Thanks for asking."

I look up, and he looks guilty, and a little amused. I contemplate tossing my mimosa at him to wipe the half-smile off of his face, but decide against it, and look back at the paper.

"Good to hear. I've been meaning to call you," he says, his voice still nonchalant.

I sit absolutely still as his last statement echoes through my head. The pencil falls from my fingers and I slowly raise my head again, staring straight into the face that simultaneously excites me and sends my heart into the pit of my stomach.

I become conscious of the look on my face from watching his reaction. He sits back a little, his eyes darting to the kitchen and the living room, likely planning an escape route.

_Fucker should be._

Just like that I'm angry all over again.

No, not angry, vengeful. Hateful. Spiteful. I feel like talking some shit.

I have no recollection of the helpful techniques I learned in therapy to calm myself down. Not one.

"You've been meaning to call me." My voice is even and soft, perhaps too soft. His expression is starting to resemble a hunted animal sensing danger.

_How perceptive._

"Yeah, I … " he trails off. He still has the half-smile, but it's thinly veiling his discomfort.

I think I feel my lip curling up into a sneer, and I doubt I can stop it, though I don't really try.

"Right, right. So … you were thinking you could call me and we could talk about what, exactly?" I lean forward and prop my chin on my hand, looking at him quizzically. "Weather? Football? Or _maybe_ we could rehash the details of the day I found out that underneath whomever you were pretending to be last summer, you truly are a raging _douchebag_?" I stop then, realizing how loud my voice is in the quiet room. He looks shocked, but still amused, and opens his mouth to say something.

But, I'm not done.

"How's _Tanya_, Edward?" His face sets then, the smile fading. He's pissed. It fuels me further.

"Did I hit a nerve? Ouch. Is it difficult for you to remember the day you humiliated me in front of my friends and family? I understand just how you feel."

His face mirrors mine from a minute ago.

"You know what? How about I make this easy. Stay away from me. Ignore me. Pretend I don't exist. Pretend that month never happened. I can't imagine that you'll struggle with that."

I'm leaning toward him, my body tensed and senses heightened. I pause, and we stare hard at each other. Time slows and stops, and it's only our eyes, telling our secrets. For a second I see everything between us, everything I feel, mirrored back at me in his face. Then I blink, and time restarts, and I can feel imminent tears.

I manage to keep my voice from wavering when I speak again. "Just don't try to engage me in inane conversation, because I can't sit across from you and act like you didn't use me and throw me away."

I stand up then and walk out, grabbing my jacket by the door. My eyes are brimming, and I'll be damned if he is going to see me cry.

I don't look around at the faces of my family on the way out the door. I walk away from the lake into the woods and don't pay attention to where I'm going, but I know the woods well. The ground crunches under my shoes, and it's the only sound until I hear footsteps following me.

I wipe my tears away and turn around shaking my head.

Jasper and Rose are looking my face over, gauging what phase of my manic outburst I'm in. The anger subsided, and now all that's left is embarrassment and sadness and a stinging feeling where the rage bubbled in my chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. He just…he fucking tried to make small talk and I just lost it," I sob, throwing my hands up.

"It's okay, B." Jasper steps toward me, wrapping me in his arms. I can feel Rosalie's arms too. "It was going to happen at some point, I guess. Maybe it's better to get it all out now."

I start to feel horrible, the embarrassment compounding and growing. My cheeks are hot.

"I can't believe I just did that," I whisper, tears streaming down my face.

"Girl, you didn't say anything he didn't have coming. No one is going to be mad at you," Rose is stroking my hair and speaking softly, "It might make opening the presents a little uncomfortable, though. By the way, what did you get him? Lump of coal? Fruitcake? A really ugly sweater?"

I smile then, and start giggling. A little at first, but then we're clutching our stomachs, and my tears are from the laughter.

"Did I seriously call him a douchebag? In front of my dad, and his mom? Holy shit." I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

"A _raging_ douchebag!" Rose spurts out between giggles.

Jasper leans against a tree watching us and chuckling while Rose and I let the laughter consume us.

When we collect ourselves, we head back to the cabins, arms around each other.

We don't go back to Rose's right away, instead going to my cabin to find my dad, popping the top of one of his crappy canned beers.

"Bells, are you okay?" He scans Rose and Jasper's faces, and seems relieved at their smiles.

"I'm sorry, pops. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I didn't mean for it to come out at all, honestly. I'm so embarrassed," I say, looking at him sheepishly.

"I think you've got nothing on Edward's embarrassment, kid. Esme yanked him out of there by his ear. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not." He punctuates his last statement by toasting me with his beer and taking a swig.

I allow myself a tiny giggle at that. Rose and Jasper laugh out loud.

"So, do you want to come back with us? I have to finish cooking," Rose asks, moving towards the door with J.

"I'm going to stay here for a minute and get it together. Then I'll be over." My stomach is uncertain about this statement.

Charlie stays, watching me get a glass of water and lean against the counter.

"I'm sorry," Charlie mumbles.

My brow furrows.

"For what, dad?"

"For not being good at this. If your mom was here she would know what to say, and she would have made sure it didn't happen in the first place."

Walking over to him, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

"You are the best dad ever."

My eyes water for the second time that day. I wonder if I have PMS.

We break the embrace and he gets up, a little uncomfortable from our frank talk.

"I'm going to head over. I'm starving. Come when you're ready, kid."

I nod.

I spend the next hour running back over the conversation and imagining walking back into that room. One pitying glance and I may start crying again. I try to figure out where my resolve went.

When I get the balls, I walk back over and enter quietly. Everyone is scattered around the room, eating. Jasper has Charlie Brown Christmas music playing, just like every year. I smile, making eye contact with Esme and trying to look apologetic. She smiles back kindly. Edward sits next to her and doesn't look up.

I decide to sit with Emmett, because I can't handle awkward conversation at the moment. He's quoting lines from _Super Troopers_, and Rose is planning a dinner menu go along with it. That night the "adults" are going out for dinner, leaving us to our own devices.

"So the list, thus far, includes maple syrup, chinchillas, powdered sugar … and a keg?" Rose reads back the list, holding back laughter while Emmett nods at each item and pumps his fist when she reaches the keg.

"Who wants a mustache ride?" Emmett booms, his arms open wide, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Shhhh, Emmett!" Rose whispers dramatically, "or your mom may drag you out by your ear, too."

I roll my eyes at her.

"God. Shut up, you guys. You'll make it worse." I keep my voice low.

From what I can tell, Edward hasn't moved or spoken since I came back. I'm just avoiding that side of the room altogether. Everyone is acting unbelievably normal. We sit down to exchange gifts, and I'm suddenly very nervous.

I didn't know what to get for Edward. I thought about not getting him anything, but it seemed rude, and I didn't want to draw attention to our situation.

_Too late for that, Drama Queen. _

_Sigh._

I ended up going with a scarf that I knit myself. I had a lot of free time on my hands after Rose intervened on my partying. It's a little bit ugly, and it's definitely misshapen, but the green reminds me of his eyes. I knit a few for other family members, so I hoped it wouldn't come off as too personal.

Now I'm horrified that I gave him anything at all, though.

Rose, Jasper and I used to fight over who got to play "Santa" and distribute the gifts. Now we fight over who _has_ to do it. Thankfully, we're spared the tedium of opening the presents one at a time this year. Perhaps sensing my unease, Charlie declares a free-for-all, and paper and bows fly around the room.

Someone still has to pass out the gifts, though, and Jasper lost the Santa war this year.

Charlie bought me a new car. No shit. He didn't want me to have to drive it back to L.A., so in the box I find the keys and a picture of it sitting in our garage.

_Best. Dad. Ever. _

Towards the end of the frenzy Jasper hands me a small blue box - a Tiffany's box.

_To: Bella_

_From: Edward_

Attempting to keep from hyperventilating, I untie the ribbon and lift the lid. I don't look up to see if he is watching, and I don't know if he opened my crappy gift yet. I don't want to.

In the box is a necklace with a single, shining diamond dangling from the platinum chain.

It's beautiful.

I hate it because I love it, and I hate it because it's from him.

I stare down at it, taking shallow breaths, tears in my eyes for the third and hopefully final time today

My eyes flash to him involuntarily. I have no control over my expression, but if I had to I would guess it was something akin to heartbroken.

He's looking down at the lumpy scarf, though, his thumb rubbing the soft, cashmere yarn. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and look behind me to see Alice giving me a sad smile.

I don't get a chance to thank him, because he never looks up.

* * *

He avoids me until we leave a few days later, coming to dinners but spending a lot of time smoking on the deck.

Now that my anger has a chance to erupt, the longing and hurt have returned full force. Having him so close and not being able to touch him or even really talk to him is killing me. I regret telling him to pretend that it never happened more than anything, because even though he may be able to, I can't. Everything I've been running from starts to catch up, and I'm wallowing in emotions that I should have processed and moved past by now.

Once back in L.A., New Year's Eve comes up too fast. My friends drag me to a club that Alice's new status has gotten us into. I protest attending, but they insist. I concede and let Alice get me dolled up for the night. Everyone looks incredible, and we have too many drinks and tons of fun, but I'm the fifth wheel again, and am even more aware of this fact when midnight rolls around and I'm left standing alone with no one to kiss.

* * *

My morning ritual involves coffee, email and the crossword, in that order, so when I check my email on the morning of January 1st, I'm still half asleep.

My inbox is full of unopened mail, but I hone in on one and my heart starts to gallop.

_To: _

_From: _

_Date: Fri, Jan 1 at 1:02 AM_

_Subject: Happy New Year_

_I know I'm not supposed to contact you, but I need a chance to apologize for everything. I'm an ass. I'm sorry. Please write back._

My heart rips open, and I find myself staring at the little blue box next to my computer that I can't bear to open again.

I should be happy, I guess, getting an apology. Instead I can only think about how insufficient it is in comparison to what he did, and how hurt I still am. I'm surprised when tears don't flood my eyes. I shut down my computer, and close my laptop, feeling like I'm closing a really good, sad book after finishing the last chapter.

* * *

**Whew. There it is. Thoughts?**


	10. Wherever you go, there you are

Edward

That fall, for the first time, maybe ever, I'm truly unhappy. I've had flashes of unhappiness before, but I was usually able to shake it off with a night out at the bar, fucking some girl in a bathroom, or an alley, or a car. This time, though, nothing numbed the unsettling feeling. It actually makes it worse.

It doesn't help that Emmett is flying back and forth from L.A. almost weekly. He's gone the days that we don't have games, practice or class. When he's here, he talks constantly about Rosalie and her family. He mentions Bella often, laughing about things she says as he talks about their movie nights and the accompanying meals. I try to feel good about the fact that she's okay, because I think I'm supposed to, but instead it makes me feel shitty.

This season my game suffers, which is another first. The coaches are riding my ass constantly, alternating between yelling at me and trying to build me up. My teammates tell me to go get laid, get drunk, do whatever I need to get my head straight. I'm entirely half-assing it, though, and it's obvious.

I'm aware that when things that used to make you happy don't anymore, there's a problem, but I don't know what to do about it, so I put it out of my mind.

I draft about a thousand emails to Bella, but I don't know what to say, so I don't send them. It sounds like she's happy, and I wonder if she's forgiven me. I suppose I'm supposed to apologize at some point, but that's not my thing, so I don't.

A few weeks before Thanksgiving, when my mom calls me from the lobby of our apartment building, I'm not surprised. She drops in unannounced on a regular basis to check up on Emmett and me and do our laundry. I think it makes her feel needed, and I actually enjoy hanging out with her.

I unlock the door and walk into the kitchen, quickly throwing the errant beer cans in the recycling and stacking up pizza boxes before I hear the elevator ding.

"Edward, I wish you'd stop smoking," she says as she enters, waving her hand in front of her face to illustrate her distaste for the odor lingering in the air.

"Sorry, mom. Coach would agree with you."

She kisses my cheek, smoothing away the lipstick mark and looking into my eyes.

"What's wrong, beautiful boy?"

She always knows. She can read me like a book.

"Nothing. Just busy. Tired."

Her raised eyebrow indicates that she doesn't believe me.

"Well, I dropped by because I want to talk to you about something."

"What's up?" We move into the bedroom and she is sorting my laundry into piles according to color and throwing it in a basket.

"I met someone. Carlisle Hale. Jasper and Rosalie's dad."

I stop for a second, considering what this means.

"Carlisle is cool," I shrug.

"He is 'cool' I guess, but more than that I think he's a really great guy, and I really like spending time with him." She finishes sorting and picks up the basket, looking almost giddy. "We're going to spend Thanksgiving with them in L.A. Emmett had already planned to be there, so we figured it would be a good way for everyone to get to know each other better. I know you have a game, so I bought tickets to fly out that night after you're done."

I'm a little disturbed by her easy use of the word "we". She seems happy, though, so I keep my mouth shut.

I must be making a face, because her next words are soft. "I'll email you the itinerary, all you have to do is get on the plane, sweetie."

"Alright," I concede, slumping on the bed.

"Edward. Are you okay?" she put the basket down and sits on the bed next to me, looking intently at me.

"Yeah, mom. I said I'm fine," I lie again.

I _am_ okay, though, I guess. Nothing is really wrong, and nothing is really different. When I say I'm fine, I guess I mean that I'm the same.

Then I realize that I'm going to see Bella in a week, and I can't stop my genuine smile.

* * *

She isn't there, though, and I don't ask, but everyone keeps alluding to her being in Washington with her dad. I don't understand how I feel then. Disappointed I guess, but I'm used to associating that feeling with losing a game, having a shitty practice, or my father. He does nothing _but_ disappoint, unless we're talking trust funds. I guess I can thank him for that, if nothing else.

Jasper, Rose and Emmett and I go to a sports bar one night. I suppose I'm in my element, but it quickly gets old, with one girl after another approaching our table, propositioning me and slipping me small pieces of paper with phone numbers and room numbers scrawled in girly script. I hardly glance at them.

Emmett and Jasper are playing darts, so it's just Rose and I at the table. She ignores me, until with a sigh she turns and looks at me coldly. I get the feeling I'm not going to enjoy this conversation.

She deflects another female approaching our table by putting a hand in the air in front of the chick's face and saying "NO", not even turning to look at her. The girl turns and walks back to her girlfriends, who huddle and gossip, glaring at Rose. She silences them with one look. I try not to smile.

Rose is hot, but scary, and kind of an enigma. On one hand she's a straight-up feisty bitch, but on the other, she's a nurturer, and is a maternal figure for all of us. Well, maybe not me, but mothers don't usually despise their children.

"So, it looks like we're all going to be at the lake for Christmas." Her voice is deceptively friendly.

I focus on anything but her, hoping to come off polite, but casual. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"You know, Bella's going to be there."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," I say, looking up at one of the ten TVs mounted on the wall behind her, hoping that's the end of the conversation, because frankly she scares the shit out of me.

"You know you really hurt her," she says quietly, but bitterly.

I'm jarred from my half-drunk state and my eyes snap to her face. She's looking at me expectantly. Everything that I've heard about Bella for the last few months has been from Emmett, and he never once alluded to her not being okay. I feel like I'm showing up to a movie that started an hour ago.

"What? I mean, I guess the last time I saw her it ended ... badly, but-"

"Ended badly?" she interrupts, her voice sharp. "What a great euphemism for you fucking someone else while you two were together. Un-fucking-believable," she huffs.

_Shit._

"We weren't really together ... I mean, we kinda were but it was just-" I stop at her glare.

"Listen. I love your brother, and we are going to be tied together for the foreseeable future, so I don't want to hate you, but what you did to her? So fucked up. If it weren't for Emmett, I would have clawed your eyes out that night after the threesome story. So this is _me_, saying to _you_, that you had better not do anything to make it worse. Or I will _fuck you up_. No joke. Emmett or not, that girl is my family."

She is right in my face, and I have no doubt that this girl will castrate me if I don't comply.

_No doubt. _

I nod, eyes wide, hoping she can see my sincerity.

"Babe! I just kicked your brother's _ass_!" Emmett roars as he strides toward the table. Rose sits back in her chair as he wraps his arms around her from behind, but she gives me one last meaningful look before turning her face to him.

The two of them kiss and whisper to each other, making me look away.

"Looks like we're going to need another round," Jasper smirks, meeting my eyes.

I get the feeling that he knows exactly what Rosalie just said to me.

* * *

My father lives in L.A. with his new wife. Emmett hasn't seen him since the wedding last year, despite all the time he's been spending here. They've talked on the phone a few times, he says, but I haven't had any contact with him at all. But he _did _call after our game on Thanksgiving, wanting to have dinner while we're in California. Emmett must have told him we'd be there.

Emmett picks me up at my hotel, where I opted to stay for the holiday, although Emmett tried to get me to stay at Rose and Jasper's house. Thinking Bella would be there, I thought it would be a bad idea.

Our father lives in the hills, and Emmett and I are quiet while he takes the corners on the winding roads too fast. He's as uncomfortable as I am with seeing him, though he has always dealt with these situations better than I do. We're both wearing suits and ties. I don't think my father has ever seen me in a pair of jeans, insisting even when we were kids that we be dressed "appropriately". If we arrived at his house in anything less, one of the maids would rush us upstairs to change before he could see us.

We stop at the gate leading onto his estate, which immediately opens.

Emmett exhales loudly when he stops the car. "You ready for this, brother?" he says, both of us looking grimly at the extravagant house.

"Not at all," I mumble.

He laughs and gets out of the truck, walking towards the door, which swings open, revealing the latest in a string of very young women that my father has dated. She is the first that he's married, though. He must trust her, or have a rock solid prenup.

Irina, a tall woman with silvery blond hair stands in the entryway, her capped teeth showing in a wide smile.

"It's so great to see you boys again!" she says, gesturing for us to follow her. Her heels click on the Spanish tile as she leads us into the living room. She seats us on a couch and comes back with two beers, sitting down across from us. She sips a martini and follows our eyes around the room, telling us where she got a painting or a sculpture. She's actually got okay taste, compared to some of the preceding women that filled her role.

"Your father should be down any minute, he's just finishing up a meeting," she says, sighing.

Emmett Cullen, Sr. loves to make people wait. Most of the time my brother and I spent with him as children consisted of us waiting in rooms like this one, with nervous, twittering women making excuses for his absence. Irina doesn't seem nervous, but she could very well already be loaded, judging from the way she's sucking down her martini.

I hear him before I see him, his expensive Italian shoes stomping down the stairs and striding around the corner. I'm always a little in awe when I first see him. People say that he and I look exactly alike, though Emmett is his namesake, so I have an idea of how I'll age. I'm going to look good, but wonder if I'll end up being as much of a fucking asshole.

_Probably. _

Another man walks next to him, briefcase in his hand

Emmett and I stand when they enter, and shake hands formally. Our father's sharp, green eyes take us in head to toe, not missing a detail, I'm sure. He's not drunk yet. The man next to him appraises us as well, but with a smile.

My father introduces us to the man, who is a state senator. I extend my hand to him, and we engage in polite conversation for a few minutes. My father is charming, and I can see that the man respects him. My guess is that he contributes generously to his campaign fund.

When the senator leaves, my father returns to the living room, his jovial mask gone.

"I see you remember Irina. Let's eat." He's abrupt, and turns toward the dining room. We trail behind, and Irina alerts the staff that we're ready for dinner.

It takes about two minutes and half of a scotch for him to lay into me. "Edward, I've been watching your games, and I have to say I'm disappointed in your performance this season. Haven't you been keeping an eye on him, Emmett?"

"Of course, sir. He's just having a rough couple of weeks. He'll pull it out," Emmett defends me. My father ignores him, appraising me coldly. I fume, but don't speak.

"You look like shit, Edward. It's embarrassing to watch you screwing up your life like this. You need some tough love, which I doubt you're getting from your mother," he sneers. I bite my tongue, hard.

Emmett is the best brother in the world, because at that moment he launches into a conversation about Rosalie, which sends my father on another rant, but distracts him momentarily from berating me.

"What are you thinking getting this involved with some girl right now, Emmett? You know what she wants from you, don't you? Don't throw everything away for some gold-digger," he bites the words out, closing the subject. Emmett is gripping his fork so hard that I think I see the silver start to bend, but he manages to nod and keep his eyes on his plate. He could tell our father that Rose is wealthy on her own, but it doesn't help to argue with him, so Emmett keeps his mouth shut.

"What about you, Edward? Any gold-diggers in your pocket?" His voice is harsh and accusatory. Irina hasn't spoken since we sat down, and it doesn't look like she intends to. The martinis slip down her throat quickly, and her eyes glaze over. I should be so lucky.

"No, sir," I say. I gesture to the woman serving us to come over, and ask for a scotch. Emmett's head pops up and he nods, indicating that he wants one too.

The conversation continues in this vein for the next hour. The more scotch my father drinks, the fouler his language and the more derogatory his comments become. Luckily, the more scotch I drink, the less I fucking care.

At some point, I start a drunken chant in my head_._

_Trust fund. Trust fund. Trust fund._

Putting up with this shit for an eventual payout is so lame, but the amount of money is beyond comprehension, and Emmett and I deserve it after the years of alternating absenteeism and verbal abuse.

When dinner is done and he's had his fill of us, we're dismissed with a wave of his hand. He doesn't bother to get up and walk us to the door, or even say goodbye. Irina lets us out, cringing slightly as he yells, "Don't do anything to embarrass me, you little fucks! Or you won't see a fucking dime of those trust funds! If you even fucking-" She shuts the door behind us with a soft click, muffling his voice.

I hope that she knew what she was getting into with him. He can be a magnetic presence, very charismatic, but underneath that he's practically a sociopath.

Our mom can hardly talk about him. They married young, before he started drinking. He was in med school, but was already extremely wealthy, coming from old money. I can't imagine them together. She left him right after I was born, refusing child support and alimony, though she deserved it. Her family was independently wealthy as well, so we were well provided for, but she probably wouldn't have taken it even if she had been destitute.

I hope he didn't treat her as badly as he does us. We don't tell her how bad it is, but after our visits I notice she bestows extra love and care upon us. When we were young our mother told us that we didn't have to see him, but twice a year we would fly out from wherever we were living at the time to visit. By the time I was 8, I knew the visits would be awful, but couldn't help hoping that just once he would say a kind word, or hug me, or give any indication that he loved me.

I leave L.A. feeling raw and agitated.

* * *

December passes quickly. I find myself at parties and bars, not really remembering how I got there, or caring. Time speeds up and activity buzzes around me, but I'm still, staring, waiting for something. I drink more than usual, but it only magnifies the feeling of isolation. Emmett is worried, even offering to stay in town for a few days when he has plans to visit Rosalie. I tell him to go, though. I spend those few days in a stupor, stumbling around the apartment while my idiot friends order pizzas and drink all of my beer.

By Christmas, I know I have to get it together, so I shower, shave and get on the plane. I'm inexplicably excited, but my emotions have been so out of whack lately that I don't examine them too closely.

Bella looks perfect, rosy cheeks and nose with her hair cascading down the back of her blue sweater. When she turns to hang up her coat and almost falls, I catch her, my hands closing around her small arms.

"Hi," she says, blushing. She isn't really looking at me, but over my shoulder.

"Bella," I say, hoping she'll meet my gaze, "good to see you again."

She meets my eyes before she turns, and there is a rush of blood to my head and dick. Totally inappropriate, but the girl gets to me like that. I feel good just being in her presence. I tell myself to stop being a pussy.

I watch her for the rest of the day. She ignores me. I undoubtedly deserve it.

After dinner, my mom, Carlisle and I walk back to our cabin. I smoke on the deck before bed, leaning on the railing, wondering how bad I fucked this up.

Seeing her again ... I didn't know it would make me feel something good for the first time in months. The second the thought crosses my mine I want to forget it, so I pour a big glass of scotch and drown in it.

However, two emotions pierce through the boozy haze, even after my second and third glasses of the amber liquid.

Regret and guilt, both of which are foreign to me.

I resolve to start over tomorrow.

* * *

I'm an ass, and when my mom grabs me by the ear and drags me out of the cabin I'm relieved to get away from the disapproving eyes. I can't see Charlie's face, but he is hunched over in his chair, his head in his hands.

"Edward Anthony Cullen," she starts, warning in her tone.

"Mom. I fucked up. I know."

"What did you _do_? Who the hell is Tanya?" She throws her hands up in exasperation.

I explain, leaving out the sordid details.

"Alright, this is how this is going to go," the woman has fire in her eyes, "you are going to be a gentleman, and you're going to find a way to apologize. I am _so_ disappointed, Edward," she says, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry."

Normally a sincere apology will soften her, but she just looks at me, right in the eyes, and walks back inside. Charlie stomps by a few minutes later towards Bella's cabin, not looking in my direction. I smoke a cigarette, and then tucking my tail between my legs, I head back in and sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

When we start opening presents, I want to disappear. The necklace I picked out for Bella is probably too much, and under the circumstances I can't bring myself to watch her reaction to it, so I keep my eyes on my lap, where her present to me sits.

The scarf is knit unevenly; I can tell she made it herself. I fight the urge to bring it to my face to see if it smells like her while I'm sitting there, but do it the second I get back to my cabin and into my room. Her scent is all over it, sweet and spicy. A few things fall into place for me when I complete this completely pathetic action.

First, I realize that I am a deplorable human being. Not in the way that I've accepted it in the past, knowing that I was an asshole but feeling justified because I grew up with an asshole for a father. It's not because my mom just looked at me like I was the scum of the earth, though that cut deep. Instead, I see myself for the first time, and understand now that I'm not a good person in a true sense of the word.

Second, I threw away something with Bella that should have been life changing, because I'm a fucking coward. When our eyes met across the table while she told me off, for a moment I saw what it could have been. I know I probably deserve to lose it forever, whatever might have been between us.

Third, I think I love her, and am going to apologize, and if she doesn't accept it, I'm going to leave her alone. Either way, I can't put her through anything more than what I already have, and am willing to sacrifice my own happiness to protect her from myself.

I fall asleep with my face buried in the soft yarn of the scarf, the dark feeling that's been hovering over me for the fast few months crashing down, making it hard to breathe.


	11. Catharsis

**Thanks for sticking with me here, my friends. I'm trying to get into a more regular update schedule, but it's taking some time to sort out. I'm grateful to you all for being understanding, but also for letting me know that you are looking forward to updates. Keeps a gal motivated!**

**TY to my betas SandandSirens and Momma Bear! It's all x's and o's to you two. TY to jajo for being the best Junior Validation beta around, and to RoseArcadia for the forum! (Link below)**

**Summer of Salt Twilighted forum**

**And last, but NOT least, to my RL girlies who found me on here, I heart you way too much. These two have listened to me rant endlessly about the characters, and gush about the reviews and the reader response. Welcome, ladies!**

* * *

Bella

After Christmas, New Year's and Edward's email, I start to truly deal with everything I've been avoiding.

I don't reply to the email because I'm not ready to forgive him, and because I'm not completely over him, either. If I open the lines of communication now, will he respect me?

One emailed apology, following a well-deserved verbal lashing doesn't redeem him.

I deserve better.

I haven't really been writing, other than the random journal entry. I sit and look at a page, but hate my "voice". It feels off, and I don't have anything to say anyway. Some people write best from a dark place, but I just can't see until I come out of it. I need distance from things before I can make sense of them. I slowly start to emerge from the haze I've been in, seeming to see clearly for the first time since Edward walked up to our bonfire.

Rose finds me tapping away on my laptop in the kitchen one morning, and peeks over my shoulder to see what I'm doing. When she sees that I'm writing again, she kisses my temple and refills my coffee.

This clarity gives me a whole new perspective on my current situation. I realize I'm living in a city that I haven't really experienced. I start joining my friends more willingly when they go out, and even start having fun. With my social life back in full swing, my knitting remains untouched. In the end that's probably a good thing, because I will never need to buy another scarf. Ever.

My birthday is on Valentine's Day, which is probably the worst holiday that it could land on unless you have a significant other. For me, this is obviously a problem. My friends take me out anyway, despite my protests, so we go to a dive bar instead of a club, at my request. The bouncer barely glances at our fake ID's.

The bar is populated mostly by hipsters, but at least my entire body isn't vibrating with a crappy techno beat.

Rose elbows her way through the crowd and quickly finds us a table and wrangles up enough chairs for the group. She has a knack for getting unsuspecting dudes to give up their seats. She then flags the waitress and orders a round of shots with beer chasers for all of us. I'm glad she made me eat dinner, if we're starting the night off like this.

After two more shots and a few games of pool, Rose, Alice and I start dancing, and I'm definitely drunk. Emmett and Jasper eye us from their spot by the pool tables, making sure no one tries to get too close to us, but attempt to look casual while doing it.

Between songs I mime getting a drink to the girls, and I make my way to the bar and lean up, looking at what they have on tap. The sound of someone calling my name startles the crap out of me.

"Bella? Bella Swan?" a blond guy behind the bar yells, leaning across so I can hear him over the music and chatter. I take in his face, a question on mine, and nod my head. He's wearing a very Jasper-esque t-shirt and jeans, and his arms are almost completely covered in tattoos. His hair is messy, cut longer on the top and the back, in a sort of modified mullet.

"I'm Mike Newton! I knew you when I was like 16! We had the cabin next door, remember?" he talks excitedly, a big smile on his face. His teeth are white and straight, and his eyes are blue and sparkling.

The second he says his name, I'm able to place him. His family owned the cabin that the Cullens now reside in, but had to sell it about five years ago. He was a few years older than us and we used to follow him around, Jasper looking up to him like a big brother, and Rose and I wishing he would notice that we were becoming teenagers. The rumor on the lake was that the Newtons lost their fortune due to bad investments, and it broke up their marriage.

"Mike! Hi! It's been forever!" I lean across the bar and we hug. He's gone from a very cute teenager to being a very handsome man, and seems to not be self-conscious at all; totally focused on me and not on my eyes roaming over his tattoos and chest.

We exchange stories and phone numbers. The whole time we're talking, he's taking drink orders and pouring beers, but he doesn't seem phased by the hectic atmosphere in the bar. I can tell he's been here for a while and is good at his job.

We make plans to meet for a drink the next night when he's not working, and I head back to my friends, throwing one last smile over my shoulder at him. He gives me a small wave back, before pouring a round of shots for a group of girls in skinny jeans and shaggy haircuts who are eyeing him like they'd like him to serve them more than liquor.

Rose and Alice have been looking for me; I didn't realize how long I was gone. They sent Jasper and Emmett on a mission to find me in the crowded space. I explain running into Mike, and when Jasper returns, he and Rose go find him to say hello. I see them across the room, hugging across the bar. They bring back a round of shots and we raise our glasses, toasting each other.

At the end of the night, Emmett ends up carrying me to our cab because I'm drunk and can't stop giggling. Rose trails behind us, while Jasper and Alice walk beside us, leaning on each other. Rose is spinning around with her arms in the air, drunkenly singing Tiny Dancer. Unfortunately, Jasper and Alice are singing right along with her.

I have an epic hangover the next morning, but Rose makes a decadent brunch for all of us, complete with hash browns, various breakfast meats and a Bloody Mary bar.

We plan to spend the day watching the movies of my choice and eating copious amounts of food. After brunch, Rose puts a pork shoulder in the oven so we can have pulled pork sandwiches this afternoon. We all settle down in the living room, which is furnished with a huge wrap-around couch and big, fluffy pillows, to watch _The Breakfast Club._ I decided on a Brat Pack theme for my birthday this year, so we'll follow this up with _Sixteen Candles_ and _Pretty in Pink_.

Jasper rolls a joint just before the Emilio Estevez pot-smoking dance scene in _Breakfast Club_, and Emmett gets up and runs around the room, leaping over furniture and pumping his fists in the air. Rose does the lipstick trick along with Molly Ringwald and Jasper recites Anthony Michael Hall's lines, embracing his inner nerd. Alice does a dead on impersonation of Ally Sheedy, and says her lines with her through the whole movie. She's completely absorbed in it, and Jasper watches her closely, completely in awe of her.

I'm aware of how lucky I am to have these people around me.

At around 5, I remember that I told Mike I would meet him for drinks, and call him to see if he would mind just coming over to hang out at our house. He's down, and arrives with a case of beer and two bottles of champagne, endearing himself to the girls, especially. By the time he gets there we're starting to get kind of tipsy.

Mike is amazing. He lets Alice inspect his tattoos and talks football with Emmett. He, Rose, Jasper and I tell stories about our early teenage years, talking over one another and finishing each other's sentences.

"Aw man, were you there the summer that Rose and Bella decided that topless sunbathing at the family cabin was a good idea?" Jasper exhales a cloud of smoke, smiling. He passes a joint to Mike, who laughs loud, raising his eyebrows at Rose and me.

She reaches over and smacks Jasper on the back of the head.

"What? Oh, _come on_. That shit was hilarious! I've never seen Charlie's face turn that color before! He was fucking purple!" Jasper laughs.

"Sadly, that must have been the year after we sold the cabin. Had I known there were going to be naked breasts in the vicinity though…" he nudges me with his elbow, teasing.

"In our defense, we were only 15, and there wasn't much to see," I explain, gesturing towards my chest, which at that age was woefully undeveloped.

"Speak for yourself, honey," Rose says smugly, clinking bottles with Emmett in an ode to her tits, which he looks at reverently. Of course, she's right. She developed years before I did, and in a spectacular fashion, if the throngs of boys following her around from age13 on were any indication. We all laugh.

It gets late, and we're all in the kitchen drinking champagne and beer and talking shit. Emmett and Rosalie go to bed, and Jasper and Alice follow about an hour later. Mike and I are left sitting across from each other, me on the counter in the corner, and him at the bar.

"I'm so glad we ran into you. We've got to hang out more," I say, smiling at him.

"For sure. I do pretty well here, but it's hard to meet people you can trust in this town, especially in my industry."

He tells me about his family and how he ended up bartending. They couldn't afford to send him to college, so he's paying his way, scraping by. I feel bad for him, but he doesn't seem to want sympathy, and tells his story matter-of-factly, with a positive spin. He loves working at the bar, loves school and his apartment, and his only real vice is an obsession with tattoos.

I tell him about the last few years, up until this summer, and then stop mid-sentence when I get to Edward. I try to think of a way to tell Mike about last summer without mentioning Edward's name, but can't, so I just put it all out there, even the part about my virginity and the frat boy in the bathroom and yelling at him at Christmas and just … everything.

Mike listens carefully, looking concerned at times, but not too serious. I like his reaction. There are no flashes of anger or disappointment. He doesn't judge, and accepts things as I tell them, not asking questions. It's nice. It's different.

"So here I am, feeling like a ruined woman, I guess. It's been like six months and I feel good most of the time, but I have these flashes of emptiness sometimes. I sometimes think that I blew it completely out of proportion, like I fabricated the intensity of the whole connection between us."

I stop there, totally purged. Surprisingly, I don't feel vulnerable, though I just completely bared my soul.

"He was your first love," he states in his blunt style. "I'm pretty sure the first time is supposed to hurt, mine did. Still does, if I think about it. Here's the thing, though, B. You spend all this time thinking about what he wants or what he doesn't want, as you perceive it, but what do _you_ want? Do you want him, even after all of it? You see yourself the way that you think he sees you, but how someone else sees you doesn't matter. Look at you! You're gorgeous, smart, bold and funny. Don't let someone else determine how good your life is going to be," he finishes, draining the last of his beer.

My only answer is a big smile, because he's right. He moves to get up, looking at the time.

"We have a spare room if you want to crash. We've got Egyptian cotton sheets…" I say seductively, trying to tempt him.

"Egyptian cotton? God, I miss rich people shit," he sighs, rolling his eyes to show he's kidding.

I show him to the room and watch as he flops on the bed face down, trying to kick his shoes off without getting back up. I laugh and pull them off for him and take in his form. He's Jasper's height, but more built. He obviously works out. His jeans are snug, and his tight shirt emphasizes the muscles on his back.

He flips over and catches me staring.

"Sorry, I'm …" I stammer.

"B," he interrupts, "don't you dare apologize for checking out my ass. It's hot, right?" He laughs and I can't help but laugh along with him.

I roll my eyes at him, smiling, "I had such a crush on you when I was 13. You have no idea."

"Oh, I knew. You and Rose spent like two summers trying to get my attention. Had I been there a few years longer, who knows what would have happened?"

My cheeks flush, and he grins at that, flopping back on the bed. I shut the light off and say goodnight, pulling the door closed behind me. I head straight for my journal and quickly commit the night to paper, before I fall asleep.

I dream about Edward, probably because of my talk with Mike, but it's not tinged with anguish like my dreams usually are.

_It's sunshine and light, and I don't know where we are, because all I can see are his eyes, as we move around each other slowly, languidly, our lips inches apart. _

* * *

We adopt Mike's bar as our own after that, and spend a few nights a week there. He comes over all the time, and I stop feeling like the fifth wheel. When everyone pairs off, he and I talk, and in a few months he knows me just as well as my closest friends. He becomes one of them.

There is a lot of sexual tension between us, and Mike calls it out occasionally, when I'm staring at his abs or jaw line, or whatever part of him I'm fixated on at the moment. He openly ogles my body as well, complimenting parts of me that I've never considered beautiful. I spend time looking at my hands and feet, which he calls "small and angelic". My upper lip is "a perfect, pink pillow", and my elbows are "lickable". It doesn't get awkward at any point, which surprises me. Neither of us make a move towards anything more, and the tension doesn't abate, but doesn't grow or consume me either.

I learn the significance of every one of his tattoos, and find that while he is an eternal optimist, he etched his pain into his skin. Not as a reminder that it happened, he says, but to set it free.

Rose and Alice encourage me to go for it with him, and discuss it endlessly, until I finally tell them to back off. They do so reluctantly.

As June approaches, I start begging Mike to come stay with us for the summer. He can't, of course, because he's a normal person with bills and obligations that the wealthy don't have to bother with. He never complains, though.

He does agree to come out for a week towards the end of June, and I'm really excited to have him there, but worried about the rest of the time we'll be separated. He changed the way I feel, about myself and about my life. I hope that doesn't fade because he's not there to build me up.

Then there's Edward.

I open his email for the last time about a week before we leave for the summer, and click reply.

_To: _

_From: _

_Date: June 2, 2009 5:45 PM_

_Edward,_

_I wish I could say that I accept your apology, and absolve you of all guilt about last summer, but I would be lying. _

_It was so good. Why did you fuck it up? I probably should have known that would happen, because believe me, I was forewarned, but I thought we were different. Were we? I spent months wondering that. _

_Did you think that everything would be forgiven after one half-assed email apology? You know better, and I deserve better. You should probably start thinking of ways to win me over so I'm not a bitch to you all summer. The diamond necklace was a good start, but you may want to think bigger, and more heartfelt. That being said, I might still be a bitch anyway. _

_Good luck,_

_B_

* * *

**When Mike is the voice of reason, you know we're in trouble. Hee. **

**Anyway, hit me up on the forum or leave me a review, if you please. **


	12. Home

**I am having way too much fun writing this. Like WAY too much fun. **

**Many thanks to my betas, SandandSirens and Momma Bear. I'm a lucky girl.**

**To my RL homies who read, I love love love you. **

**Playlist for this chapter is at www(dot)playlist(dot)com/lolapops**

**Also, I figured out that the email addresses aren't showing up in previous chapters but if I go update them it'll look like I updated, so I'm just leaving them. I'm sorry! Very distracting to have errors and I'm painfully aware of that.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Edward

After Christmas, things are different. I'm different.

I study constantly and hardly leave the apartment except to go to the gym, to training and to class. My friends give me shit for it, so I eventually faze them out.

I don't need them anyway. Fuck it.

I spend a lot of time alone.

That's the problem with a person making changes, it makes the people around them profoundly uncomfortable. The fact that I don't care seems to keep people from commenting, to my face, at least.

Emmett is surprised the first few times he returns from L.A. and the loft isn't trashed and the recycling isn't overflowing, but soon he starts to expect it.

I don't seek out random hookups anymore. I don't even attempt to actually date, because I don't know how, and none of the girls I meet hold any interest for me. This is unfortunate, because I haven't had sex since December. I haven't gone more than a few weeks without it since I was 16, and I haven't jerked off this much since then, either.

I also start to cook more, which makes Emmett ecstatic, although he complains that he's going to get fat, bouncing between Rose and I, who feed him constantly. I make roasts, racks of ribs and huge vats of chili. When I mentioned to Esme that I wanted to start cooking, she completely outfitted our kitchen, which previously housed a can opener and a microwave.

I even have an apron, which Emmett finds hysterical.

Months fly by, and as the summer approaches again I try to talk to Emmett about his plans with Rose for the summer. I'm too proud to ask about Bella, but I desperately want to know if she'll be at the lake. He throws me a bone every now and then, so I know she'll be there, but he's tight-lipped about her most of the time. It's been that way since the incident over the holidays. I gather that he's under strict instruction from Rose to keep his mouth shut, so I don't push him.

By the time school ends, I decide to pack my stuff and go with Emmett to the lake, even though my stomach churns when I think about facing all of them again; I have no idea what kind of shit storm I'm going to be walking into.

Bella's email catches me completely off guard. I spend the afternoon dissecting every sentence, seeing the truth in her words.

I want to talk to someone about it, so I grab my cell phone and start scrolling through the numbers. I scroll quickly at first, and then slower and slower, looking at each name, realizing that outside of Emmett, there isn't one person that I can call about this, or about anything, really. I scroll back at the A's and start deleting, carefully avoiding Bella's name.

When Emmett gets home I'm on the couch with my head in my hands, phone abandoned on the coffee table.

"Hey, brother!" he bellows from the entryway. He throws his bags down and walks over to collapse on the couch across from me. He's back from L.A. to pack and tie up loose ends before we leave for the summer.

When I look up, he's looking at me curiously.

"Bella sent me an email," I say quietly, gauging his reaction. His eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

"For real? Damn. Well, I guess it's good to clear the air before you have to see her again," he reasons, shrugging his shoulders.

"She said she's probably going to be a bitch to me all summer."

"Ha! You've gotta love that girl," he says, shaking his head.

I pause and look up at him, speaking cautiously, "I think I do."

He snaps his head to glare at me, processing what I mean. I stare back, knowing my expression is sad and apologetic.

"Dude," he says slowly, drawing the syllable out.

This one word says volumes. It's not meant to reassure me, that much I know. He scrubs his hands over his face, sitting up and mirroring my stressed position. "I don't know what to say to that."

"I get that I'm probably totally fucking out of line, but I think she's giving me an opportunity to try."

"No, Edward, she's giving you an opportunity to not be a total dick, and possibly be friends. You can't just show up and tell her you love her now, after everything."

"I have to try, Em," I say quietly, but I don't feel hopeful at the prospect.

"You've changed. I'll give you that. I tell Rose about how different things are around here, but she's still not your biggest fan. I don't think she tells Bella anything anyway. But what you don't know is, Bella's different, too. I don't think you really know her anymore. Plus? She's been spending a lot of time with this guy Mike, who's family used to own our cabin," he says this gently, and I can tell he's been dreading delivering that news.

My reaction is instantaneous, and wrong.

"Oh, the Newton's, huh? Didn't they get foreclosed on? So what is he, some fucking charity case she took in?" My tone is biting.

Emmett shakes his head slowly, a warning on his face. "You have no right to have an opinion about that, brother. I kept my mouth shut through most of this, but you royally fucked up, and just because _you_ happen to be unhappy, and just because _you_ aren't getting what you want the second you want it, doesn't mean it's okay act like a bratty fucking kid. Mike is a great guy, and he's really good for her. They aren't dating or anything yet, but it seems like it's heading that way. Also, he's coming up for a week in June, so you're going to have to work on not being an asshole. She shouldn't have to deal with some childish crap from you on top of everything else."

Even as kids Emmett and I rarely argued, so I'm surprised at his harsh words and how they feel like a punch in the gut.

One of his best qualities is that he can get out what he has to say, and leave it alone. So when he gets up and claps his hand on my shoulder, I know it's over.

"I think you need to try to be her friend. Let the rest fall into place," he says kindly. "Now, what are you making for dinner, because I'm fucking starving."

* * *

_To: bswan(at)_

_From: ecullen(at)_

_Date: June 3, 2009 4:34 AM_

_Bella,_

_I fully deserve any bitchy attitude that you want to throw my way, so don't hold back. As for winning you over, I'll do whatever it takes, including, but not limited to: _

_Foot massages_

_Cocktail mixing and delivery_

_Errand running (excludes the purchase of girly shit, unless I get extra points)_

_Meal preparation and service_

_I would buy you a car, but I know you got one for Christmas, so I'll have to think of some comparable gifts to bestow upon you._

_All joking aside, thank you for replying. I hope we can be friends when you're ready. _

_Edward_

I keep the tone of the email light, but my heart is heavy after my conversation with Emmett. Even though I take his advice, I want to ask her who the fuck Mike is, and why she's different now, or how she's different. I want to know what she's been doing, and I want to know if she thinks about me. I lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling and going over it all in my head, knowing I'm a selfish, possessive fuck, but I don't know how to stop myself from feeling that way.

* * *

Bella

The day we're leaving, Mike comes to see us off. I'm excited to get there, but sad to leave him. He is his usual jovial self, telling us all that he'll miss us, but not getting overly sentimental, true to form. Rose and J usually have a service that comes to water the plants and check on the house, but Rose had the idea to have Mike do it instead, saying she'd rather have someone she knows in the house. He tried to refuse payment for it, but Rose can be quite persuasive, and cut him a large check, making sure he cashed it before we leave.

I show him where everything is and give him keys and the security code before we head to my room so I can pack a few last minute things. He sits on the bed watching me stuff clothes into a suitcase, smiling.

"I'm going to miss you," I say sadly. I zip the suitcase and sit down next to him, looking around. "I guess that's it."

"You're gonna have an amazing summer up there, and I'll be up in a few weeks. It'll fly by."

I nod, turning to look at him. His bright blue eyes are shining, and I know he means it. He's probably the most selfless person I've ever met.

I look at his mouth, and then meet his gaze. We lean in slowly, our lips coming together softly. I love his smell and the way he kisses. I back up, and his eyes search mine, looking for hesitation. Finding none, he pulls me onto his lap to straddle me, and we crash together, my hands running over his taut back muscles and broad shoulders. He's hard underneath me, and I'm wet and aching. I arch against him and bring my lips to his neck, biting lightly and making him buck beneath me.

When Edward's face flashes in my mind, I moan. I hope Mike thinks it's a moan of passion, but he stills immediately, sliding his hands from my ass to a safer spot on my back and leaning back to look at my face.

"You okay?" He asks, bringing a hand up to brush my hair back behind my ear.

I nod, knowing that I'm not going to say a fucking word about Edward right now. In fact, I'm actually irrationally annoyed at him for choosing to make an appearance at this particular moment, even though it's my own subconscious playing the mind games.

Emmett called me a few days ago to give me some…information about Edward, and between that and Edward's second email, he's been weighing heavily in my thoughts. I haven't told anyone about the call yet, needing some time to sort through Emmett's words.

"Bella," he kisses me again, softer, pulling me towards him, "I want you, but not if you're hung up on someone else."

It's like he's reading my mind. "I'm not. Well, I don't want to be," I admit, running my fingers over his jaw, feeling the texture of his stubble. "I want you too."

He smiles, and we resume our kissing. By the time Alice bursts in, we're practically dry humping. Okay, fine, we are dry humping.

"We're getting ready to leave, B," she yells behind her as she cruises down the hall. I can hear her calling for Rose, giggling.

_Busted._

We take a breath, leaning back to look at each other.

"You know what I think?" Mike asks me, looking at me seriously.

"That I should stay here and we should get it on?" I ask back.

He laughs. "Nope, although that sounds pretty amazing right now," he exhales slowly, "I think we should take this couple of weeks to figure some shit out. I think you need to deal with Edward before we can move forward, and honestly I don't think you know what you want right now."

I try not to bristle, not liking when I'm told what to do or how I feel. It subsides quickly though, because I know that Mike wouldn't say something that he doesn't think is true, or that he doesn't think I need to hear.

"Okay," I concede, knowing he's right. Rose calls my name from the bottom of the stairs, and I can hear that she's trying to hold in laughter.

"I guess I've got to go. I wish I didn't. Is it any consolation that I wish I could stay here and keep doing _this_?" I say, smiling and looking down at where our bodies are pressed together.

He throws his head back in laughter, showing all of his white teeth.

"You know I'm down, girly," he says, pointing to his dick, which is straining against his jeans. He picks me up and sets me next to him on the bed, readjusting himself with a groan. He takes a few deliberate breaths, probably trying to calm himself down.

"Have I told you that you're the best?" I sigh, sinking into his side, his arm around me.

"Why, no, I don't think you have, but feel free to continue in that vein," he laughs.

He brings my suitcase out to our loaded cars and I give him a peck on the lips before I get in. We're driving up so we have vehicles for the summer, with Rose and I in one car, and Jasper and Alice in the other. Emmett and Edward fly in tomorrow and are renting a car to drive up. It'll probably be something enormous with spinning rims, if Emmett gets his choice.

Mike kisses my left cheek and then the right, and whispers in my ear, "You are amazing, Bella Swan. Don't let anybody make you feel like less."

One more hug and I get in the passenger seat of Rose's car. I watch Mike grow smaller as we pull away, feeling more than a twinge of remorse.

* * *

Rose grills me on the Mike make-out session for the first few hours in the car, until I get her talking about Emmett. The girl can be exhausting. I still don't tell her about Emmett's call, because I don't want to deal with for the 24 hours in the car. We stop at a hotel for the night, and spend it watching crap on Pay Per View and eating room service.

When we finally arrive late the next afternoon, we're all ecstatic. Not just to be out of the car, but because we're finally here again. It's in the high 70's. The boats are gassed and the cabins are stocked. I don't know where to start, so I unpack my clothes and change into a swimsuit and dress, mixing a drink before walking over to Rose's. She's got the grill going, and Jasper's playing The Walkmen, which is floating out the screened windows from inside the cabins.

Alice sits on Jasper's lap, gesturing animatedly while regaling us with tales about his erratic driving, which Rose and I can completely sympathize with. He rolls his eyes, but takes it all in good humor, looking at her like she's the only person in the world. If I didn't love them both so much it would make me sick.

Rose and I sit next to each other; she periodically gets up to refill drinks and check on the food, making sure we all have what we need.

We eat dinner on the deck by candlelight, dusk descending on our little heaven.

* * *

I lay on the thick carpet in my living room that night, listening to a playlist that Edward made me last summer while staring at the ceiling.

I haven't listened to it in almost a year.

The nostalgic tone of the songs, while slightly painful, doesn't diminish the greatness of the mix. Perhaps I'm even reveling a bit in the pain of it.

I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but I have this. I have these people that love me, and my family and friends. That's all I can count on. I resolve to enjoy every second of it.

The next morning, I'll see him for the first time in six months. I try to stop my heart from crashing in my chest, but my body betrays me.

* * *

I wake up early and hop in the shower. When I'm done I throw on a bikini, a green sundress and flip-flops. It's a little cool still, so I zip a hoodie over the dress and step onto my deck, closing the screen door carefully behind me so it won't make too much noise. The lake is quiet and still, buttery light brightening the tops of the trees. I can't remember the last time I saw sunrise.

"Hi." The voice startles me and I jump, my hand clutching my chest and my eyes wide. Edward is sprawled on one of the Adirondack chairs, looking like he just woke up.

"Holy shit," I gasp. "I kind of forgot how you like to sneak up on me. I wasn't expecting you to be here yet, and by here, I mean the lake … not my deck. _That_, I couldn't have predicted," I ramble breathlessly, watching him sit up and rub his eyes.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he looks back up at me, squinting a little, his expression soft.

"Well if you were expecting it, it wouldn't be fun, B," he chuckles quietly. I think my expression sours, because his smile falls and he explains why he's here. "We got in early. Emmett went to Rose's, obviously, and I couldn't sleep, so I decided to wait for you to wake up so I could talk to you," he says, looking down at his hands.

I take this in, trying to decide if I should invite him in for coffee. I'm annoyed that I acted flustered when I first came out. I wanted to be cool and collected.

I think of Mike, and my shoulders relax.

"I don't think Rose will be doing breakfast today. I'm sure she'll be busy, um, _reuniting_ with Emmett." I blush when I realize I'm referring to sex this early in the morning, and this early in our first conversation in months. He appraises me, raising an eyebrow. I choose to ignore his expression. "So, do you want to come in for coffee?" I ask, a bit apprehensively.

He smiles and stands up, stretching. He looks good. Like reallygood. There isn't a hint of the exhaustion that I saw at Christmas. His skin has a little color, and his eyes are brighter than I remember, despite having just woken up. He catches me eyeing his taut stomach, and his smile widens.

I don't smile back, and he looks away before opening the door for me. We step inside awkwardly. He sits at the counter while I make coffee.

"Do you want toast or something? Cereal?" I ask, while I'm hunting for my favorite coffee mug.

"Cereal is hardly a nutritious breakfast," he teases. I roll my eyes at him and turn back to the cupboard. I'm not sure if I'm ready for teasing yet, but decide to avoid making this any more uncomfortable than it already is by pointing that out.

"Well, since you're such a stickler for the four basic food groups, why don't you cook me breakfast? I believe I'm entitled to that, per your email," I say, finding my mug and one for him and turning to set them on the counter in front of him.

I stop at the sad look on his face. There's none of the usual cockiness in his posture and expression.

I have trouble meeting his eyes for too long though, glancing down at the mugs or over his shoulder every few seconds.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he says softly. My eyes stop darting around and fix on his. I don't have to ask what he's sorry for.

My head nods almost imperceptibly, but he sees it, and allows a tiny smile. Again, I don't smile back.

After another long look, I clear my throat and try to ease the tension in the room. "Well, saying that is one thing, but showing it is another. Now, make me breakfast, because until I say otherwise, you're my bitch." He adopts his crooked grin, and I pour the coffee, deciding to go with the flow, but keep my distance.

He makes pancakes and bacon, and slices fruit. I watch, pretending to pay attention to what he's making, but really just admiring the way his big hands move on the knife. His forearms flex hypnotically as he slices, the sleeves of his worn sweatshirt pushed up to his elbows. He pauses with his knife halfway through a kiwi, bringing me back to the present. Looking up to his face, he's raising one eyebrow at me, the tiniest of smirks on his lips.

_Shit._

"Sorry. What?" I ask, my voice high.

"Oh, I was just asking about your dad. How's he doing?" He begins slicing again and I force myself to look elsewhere.

"He's great. You'll see him in a few weeks." I remember Mike is coming around the same time and bite my lip, trying to decide if I should tell Edward about him. In the spirit of honesty, and because frankly, I want to rub it in his face a little, I take a deep breath and blurt it out.

"This guy Mike Newton is coming up the same week as my dad. His family used to own your cabin, and we all ran into each other, and now we hang out a lot."

I take a second to wonder why I can't form normal sentences right now, and watch his reaction.

His jaw visibly tenses, but his expression stays cool. "I look forward to meeting him."

I'm not sure what reaction I expected, but that wasn't it. I make a mental note to figure out how fucked up it is that I hoped he'd be really jealous.

Our conversation over breakfast flows effortlessly, once we get over the awkwardness. I ask him question after question about what he's been doing. His answers are straightforward, and it sounds like Emmett was right, he's made some major changes. I take him in, sensing his sincerity and enjoying his presence, while keeping space between us, literally and figuratively.

After we're done, it's almost 10, and he goes to his cabin to unpack while I head to the beach. No one is down there yet, so I put Talking Heads on in the boathouse and lay my towel on a lounge chair, taking off my dress and laying out in the sun. I get my journal out of my bag, and document the morning, trying to sort through how I'm feeling. I have an overwhelming need to stay in control of the situation with him, and hope my acknowledgement of his apology didn't make him think that I'm over what happened last summer.

Half an hour later he walks down the beach towards me, board shorts hanging on his hips. I try to stop myself from gawking, but it's fucking impossible to look away. I notice, smugly, that he's gawking right back at me, eyes sweeping my body, leaving a burn in their wake.

He stops in front of my chair, blocking my sun. I'm about to tell him just that, but before I can say anything he licks his lower lip, his face spreading into a slow smile.

"Hi."

I'm rendered speechless.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who puts this on their favorites and story alerts. I look at every one of your profiles when I get the emails that notify me. I actually do. I'm a total dork. **


	13. The Reel

**LouderthanSirens and Momma Bear, you beta like nobody else. Many, many thanks. Jajo, my Twilighted JV beta, I heart you. RoseArcadia, who has been just...awesome...I owe you a drink. **

**Last but not least, it looks like one of you gems nominated me for the Indie Twific Awards. I feel really fortunate to be on that list, no matter what happens next! I'll keep you all updated. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Bella

Rose is being a bitch.

While this isn't exactly a new thing, when we're at the lake it's rarely an issue, because this place is our haven. Unfortunately, Edward has found himself on her shit list, and once she makes her mind up about a person it's difficult to dissuade her from her hatred.

It doesn't help that he offered to do some of the cooking.

"Rose, I'd like to make dinner for everyone tonight if you don't mind," Edward says the day after he and Emmett arrive. We're all on the beach draped on lounge chairs, beers in hand. Emmett, Jasper, Alice and I snap our heads up and look at him incredulously.

Rose eyes him skeptically.

"I know you always to do the dinners, but I've been cooking a lot, and I thought I could take some of the burden off of you since you end up making all of our meals," he says, glancing at her.

Emmett rubs circles on Rose's shoulders from his position behind her on the chair they're sharing and whispers in her ear.

Until now, we've avoided any real awkwardness, but it was bound to happen at some point. The last time we were all together, there were other family members present to deflect some of the darker undertones present among us. Even though I had my outburst at Christmas, I know that there is unfinished business here. Rose, especially, seems to have unexpressed resentment, though I know Jasper and Alice feel it too.

Jasper isn't the type to come right out with his shit. He's not a hothead like Rose, or like me. He considers his words carefully, and when he chooses to impart his thoughts on a person, you understand the gravity of them because of this.

I wonder when that will be, in this instance.

"Sure. Sounds good. I'll just go put the steaks I had resting in the fridge," Rose says tightly, getting up and stalking up the long flight of stairs to her cabin.

"Fuck." Edward's head is in his hands. "She hates me."

It's true, and there's nothing to say, so we stay silent.

The rest of the day is slightly strained. No one talks much, and I'm relieved when I get back to my empty cabin to get ready for dinner. I put on Andrew Bird to calm my nerves, and mix a cocktail. We're eating at the Cullen cabin, which we didn't do even once last summer. I'm nervous about all of us sitting around a table together, imagining it being silent and painful. I put a dress on and a little bit of mascara, letting the music soothe my jitters.

Jasper, Alice, Rose and I walk over together. I hook my arm through Rose's and smile reassuringly at her as we start down the stairs. She raises one side of her mouth at me in a half-smile before reaching her other arm over to tickle my side. By the time we reach the Cullen's we're smiling and talking.

The moon is high and bright, illuminating our way over the clean sand of the beach.

The Cullen cabin is similar to ours in shape, but it's not on a steep hill. It's close to the beach, and bigger than two of ours put together. Ours are sizable, so this place is practically a mansion.

We're greeted by Emmett throwing open the door, bottle of champagne in hand.

"Welcome to the Cullen Cabin of Love, bitches!" He bellows into the night, ushering us in, grabbing Rose and kissing her.

Edward is at the stove, towel thrown over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up. Rose can't hide her curiosity, leaning over the counter, eyeing his dishes critically. She reluctantly nods at Edward as Emmett hands her a glass of champagne.

He looks relieved, and winks at me before going back to the meal prep. We didn't collaborate on the movie and dinner, but left it up the Cullen boys. I walk over to the coffee table to view the movie selection and burst out laughing.

"Overboard?"

Emmett laughs loudly, "Fuck yeah, girl! Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell in one of the most glorious pairings in movie history! It doesn't get much better than that."

"High class meets white trash. Crab legs, tater tots, Caesar salad and Jello for dessert," Edward laughs from his spot in the kitchen. "Emmett helped me come up with the menu. The tater tots are Gruyere and bacon. Homemade." I should have known he wouldn't make the frozen school lunch kind.

Everyone seems relaxed and laughter comes easily.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

We finish the champagne and Emmett hands each of us a can of beer, the kind my dad drinks.

"Ew, Emmett. Seriously?" Rose gapes at the beer in her hand.

"It's all part of the experience, babe," he scoffs, reaching over to pop the top off of hers as we sit down at the table for dinner.

Edward brings the food out, spreading it out before us and encouraging us to eat as he walks back and forth from the kitchen, bringing out various dishes and placing them on the table. I try not to stare as I watch him take on a role I never anticipated him in.

Even Rose has trouble not looking like she's enjoying the meal. Edward seats himself next to me, and raises his crappy canned beer in a toast.

"To all of us. To this summer," he says, meeting my eyes. We all clink our cans together and take a sip of beer, cringing at the taste.

"Okay. We're going to need something a little less disgusting to drink with dinner, no offense to Charlie," Edward says, smiling at me and getting up to grab another bottle of champagne.

The girls sigh in relief and offer up their glasses for a pour.

Edward is quiet through dinner, his eyes on his plate. I'm a little uncomfortable, not knowing whether or not I should engage him too much.

Rose behaves for the most part, until she brings up the topic of infidelity, referencing a friend of ours in L.A. who just found out her boyfriend is cheating on her.

"… then she went through his phone and found out he was sending this other chick pictures of his cock. Asshole." She flashes her eyes to Edward as she says this.

Real subtle, Rose. Fuck.

Edward is staring back at her, obviously trying to repress some emotions lying just below the surface.

"Obviously, we need to clear the air," he says, dropping his fork and leaning back in his chair.

We sit still, the tension back once again.

Leaning forward again, he puts his elbows on the table and takes a deep breath. "I know what I did to Bella last summer was … unforgivable, and I know that she wasn't the only one affected by what I did. I want to say to all of you that I'm sorry." He looks each of us in the eye as he said this. I can see it's hard for him to get the words out, and I'm floored and embarrassed, my cheeks flaming while I gape at him.

I manage to tear my eyes away from him and sit back in my chair, looking at everyone for their reactions, but specifically Rose and Jasper.

Rose's teeth are biting her full bottom lip, and she's looking at the ceiling, her jaw clenched. Jasper is watching her too. I wait for someone to say something.

Her outburst makes me jump in my chair.

"Well, you're the one who said it was unforgivable, not me. You think just because you show up here and apologize and cook that we're all just going to let it go? Because Jesus Christ if you saw what you did to her …" she shakes her head. My face flushes almost painfully at that statement. "…you wouldn't act like it was something you could atone for by doing this." She gestures at the table, dropping her hands to her lap.

It's quiet then, her harsh words lingering in the air. The music playing is sweetly discordant with the situation and I brace myself against the tension, wishing I could disappear into the song. This is too much; too humiliating to be discussed as if I'm not here.

My eyes are fixed on the bubbles rising in my glass of champagne, and I idly wonder if each bubble holds a universe that is created and destroyed in the time that it takes to rise from the bottom of my glass to burst on the surface. It makes me feel insignificant and safe to know that all of us understand so little of life.

"I forgive you," Jasper says quietly, breaking the silence and bringing me out of my thoughts.

Edward looks at him and nods.

"I forgive you," Emmett says, smiling slightly at his brother.

Edward nods again, returning the half-smile, and then looking at Alice.

"I forgive you," she says, her face flushed and eyes wet, no doubt flashing back to harder times. Jasper's arm tightens around her as she looks at Edward, the hurt from her experience plain on her face. I feel terrible for having to have this conversation, and I'm a little annoyed at Rose for telling the cheating story that led to it. It's easy to forget how broken Alice was just a year ago, watching her with Jasper now.

All eyes turn to Rose, who is looking down at her plate. She takes a deep breath and releases it, all of us along with her.

"I'm going to try," she says quickly, looking Edward in the eyes and nodding resolutely. It is unlike her to concede even that much.

It stays quiet in the room, and I suppose the whole table is looking at me, but I don't care. I don't want to do this in front of everyone. Edward and I look at each other. He looks pained, and I suppose I do, too.

When neither of us speaks, Emmett breaks the silence, reminding us that we have a movie to watch and many cocktails to drink. I readily accept the glass he hands me.

Watching the movie is really fun, because of course Emmett knows almost every line, and the drinks flow freely.

The tension between all of us has dissipated, and even Rose loosens up. Towards the end of the night I find myself very drunk.

When Edward goes out for a cigarette after the movie, I stumble out after him, waving away Alice's offer for accompaniment and ignoring Rose's stare. They both probably just want to keep me from making an ass of myself, but I don't see it that way at the time.

He's standing against the railing, looking at me as I come out the door, wavering slightly when I let the screen door go behind me.

"I'm drunk," I say factually.

"I see that," he says, grabbing my elbow to steady my frame as I lean on the railing next to him.

He's looking back at me, his expression indecipherable, and his hand still on my arm, thumb rubbing my skin gently. I shiver from the contact and the cold air.

"Why is it like this?" I ask, my bottom lip quivering.

He takes his hand from my elbow and moves it tentatively to my face, cupping my cheek. I push my face into his palm, my face crumpling.

"Because I fucked up," he says softly.

I nod slowly and tears spill down my cheeks one more time. My arms cradle my chest, and I hug myself tightly, wishing they were his arms and knowing how fucked up that is.

"I want to forgive you," I say softly.

"But you don't," he responds, no surprise in his voice.

"I don't." I want to say I'm sorry on top of that, to soften the blow in some way, but I can't, and shouldn't.

I think Rose and Alice walk me back to my cabin, but I don't really remember.

* * *

He's on my deck waiting for me the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that.

He never comes in before I get up, waiting for me to peek my head out the door to announce that the coffee is brewing. We form our own little morning tradition.

I play him my favorite albums, sitting on the couch while he sits in a chair. I tell him why I like a particular artist or song. We talk, but never touch on the topic of our failed relationship. When we get too close to it, the silence is heavy and tough to break through.

Despite my drunken confession on the deck, I try to keep physical and emotional distance between the two of us. The physical distance is deliberate and sometimes obvious, on both of our parts, but I can't help but watch him nonetheless, my eyes wandering to him more often than I would like.

The days fly by and Edward and I are thrown together by default again, just like last summer. The first few days after his dinner table apology, everyone is annoyingly preoccupied with my well-being. Gradually things relax and settle into a natural rhythm, though.

I talk to Mike every day, but up here it seems like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

I'm really happy. This should scare the shit out of me, but I can't conjure up the proper emotion. Everything seems like it's how it should be. Edward and I banter, and it's almost like it used to be. It even borders on flirtation at times, but he's guarded and usually changes the tone of the conversation shortly after it goes there.

I relish in the times when he's the cocky fucker, though.

_Because I'm a fucking masochist._

I know I'm evil, but find myself intentionally provoking him. The day the two of us go for ice cream cones at the drive-in we've been here for about two weeks, and I'm restless.

It's in the 90's, so I throw shorts on but decided to forgo wearing a shirt in lieu of a bikini top.

We don't want to sit in the car to eat our cones.

Okay, Edward won't let me sit in the car.

"You'll get everything all sticky," he says knowingly, shutting off the engine and opening his door.

I roll my eyes and get out of the car to follow him. "You'll get everything all sticky," I say snottily while we're walking towards the order window.

He cocks an eyebrow at me, his eyes mischievous for a moment before looking away, the smile falling from his mouth.

Groaning internally, I order a soft serve vanilla cone while the teenage boy behind the counter stares openly at my chest. Edward stiffens next to me, his eyes darting between my tits and the kid's face, before clearing his throat loudly. The kid's eyes widen as he takes in Edward's expression and protective stance around me, mumbling an apology and running to get our cones.

"God, Edward. He's just being a teenage boy! You are such a brute," I tease, slightly high from watching him get jealous.

_Like I said, masochist._

"He was staring. It was rude," he says shrugging, not meeting my eyes. My heart falls and my posture slumps. His words don't indicate jealousy, just chivalry.

_Fuck chivalry._

I start wondering if I've lost my mind when I consider my next move. I'm pretty sure I'm playing games. I'm sure it's awful, but I refuse to overanalyze my every thought and action. Can't I just do what I want? Can't I just do what feels good?

I decide that what feels good right now is to eat a rapidly melting vanilla ice cream cone slowly, while completely ignoring Edward.

When I finally do look over, while I'm licking a trail of ice cream up the back of my hand, he's slack-jawed, his eyes on my mouth. He's also visibly aroused. I smile innocently, watching his ice cream drip on the ground while he neglects it.

With a deep breath, he comes to, shaking his head at me. It's almost a reprimand, but he does it with the hint of a smile.

I try to keep the smug look off of my face, but can't. He watches me eat the rest of my ice cream while I pretend I don't notice.

* * *

"I see what you're doing," Alice whispers to me.

We're laying face down on our lounge chairs, waiting for everyone else to get back from waterskiing. She hasn't recovered from her first lesson and avoids it at all costs; afraid Jasper is going to make her try it again. I jumped at the chance to stay back and hang out with Alice. Emmett is driving the boat, and he's a maniac, so most of the time I'm in a vehicle with him I see my life flash before my eyes. I would rather not have that happen while I'm on water skis.

"Doing?" I ask, pausing my writing to look up at her.

"Oh come on. The teeny-tiny bikinis? The body oil?" She gestures down my body, which is pretty shiny and tan. "He almost came in his pants watching you eat a peach the other day."

I try to keep a straight face, but when she says "came in his pants" I crack up.

"Ha! See? You are totally fucking with him. That is so awesome," she says, nodding in approval.

Then my face falls. "Am I being too obvious? Do I look stupid?" I plead, my confidence shot for the moment.

"Are you kidding me?" she scoffs. "You've got him so wound up I'm surprised he can even think straight. It's almost sad," she laughs.

"Do you think I'm doing something wrong, though? I know I should be keeping my distance and not teasing him. I'm kind of asking for it, aren't I?" I question, wanting to see Alice's perspective.

She knows what I mean. "I think he's different now."

I lay my head on my arms to look at her. "I'm not the best person to ask, though," she says quietly.

"Oh, Al," I sigh. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you think about him."

"It's okay. Sometimes I'm so happy I just totally forget about my old life. I feel lucky to have all of this," she smiles genuinely.

We know pretty much everything that happened with Alice and Royce, now. Suppressed police photos of Alice's battered face showed up on the internet after the story broke. It turns out, the photos were taken a year before she left him. Her parents made her go to the cops, but she dropped the charges when they got back together. The night he managed to get into her apartment, her neighbor hit his panic button before anything really horrible happened, but he promised that he was going to kill her. She's pretty sure he was serious.

"You and Jasper are perfect together. So perfect that sometimes it's annoying."

"I know, right?" She laughs and then sobers. "Honestly, though, I think Edward changed. At least he'd better have, or Rose is going to find a slow and painful way to punish him."

I smile, but my stomach twists when she says that, like it's an actual possibility.

* * *

I spend copious amounts of time during this period masturbating. It's almost sad, because I'm sure I'm starting to rival the habits of pubescent males, and I find myself making excuses to be alone in my cabin. I run through the "reel" daily, as Emmett calls it.

"The reel! You know, the reel," he explains one night after many drinks. "It's like a football highlight reel, but you use your favorite sexual experiences and run through the best parts in your head." This earns him a smack on the head from Rose, but the rest of us crack up.

"Everyone has a reel!" he protests as Rose delivers another smack. "What's on yours, baby?" he taunts her further, but this time she leans in and whispers in his ear and his eyes widen before he throws her over his shoulder and hauls her to their bedroom. I silently thank god for solid construction and soundproofing.

Alice and Jasper depart shortly after that, leaving Edward and I in Rose's living room. I blush when we make eye contact, because all I can think about is my "reel", and how heavily he's featured in it. I blush harder when I think about the fact that Mike is on it, too.

Then I wonder what's on his and my heart sinks.

"Want to come over for a beer, or are you tired?" I ask once my color returns to normal.

He runs his hand through his hair, clearly having an internal battle. "Sure, I'll come over for one," he says somewhat reluctantly. We walk to my place, chatting casually.

I put on music while he opens our beers, and we settle into our usual places in my living room on separate pieces of furniture. It's very deliberate.

"So, when is that guy Mike coming?" he asks, leaning back in his chair, his chest clad in a black wife beater. He's peeling the label off of his beer, watching his fingers.

I'm a little thrown by the change of topic, but regain composure quickly, trying to remember what day of the month and week it is.

"He'll be here on Saturday," I say when I determine the date.

I try to imagine Mike and Edward in the same room and what that will look like.

"Hey," he says, waving a hand in my direction from his reclined position.

I snap back to reality.

"What?"

"I just asked if he's staying here. Like, in your cabin."

"Well, yeah. But Charlie will be here for most of the time, so …"

"Oh, sure. I mean I wasn't saying that you were going to …" he fades off, frowning. It's officially awkward in this room.

"He's not my boyfriend or anything, if that's what you mean," I say.

His frown relaxes, probably in relief, which pisses me off.

"We made out once, but we didn't, like, define it," I say lightly, hoping to hide my irritation. When I glance at him, he's looking at the floor. His face is stone, and his fists are clenching and unclenching. He's never looked better to me than in this moment.

I am so fucked up.

"I told you that to hurt you," I blurt out, surprising both of us.

His eyes dart to mine, finding the shameful look there.

He nods, understanding.

I don't apologize.

When he leaves that night he pulls me in for a hug at the door, our first since last summer. I try to think of the last hug we shared before everything went down, but can't remember it. This thought seems less tragic while wrapped in his arms, my face pressed against his chest, and I'm glad I didn't think of it before now.

We linger just a few beats too long, both letting go at the same time and taking a step back. He reaches for the door and pauses, looking back at me, his face serious. We stare at each other, a whole host of emotions passing between us.

In his eyes I see regret, desire and guilt cycle through over and over.

I wonder if resentment, relief and sexual frustration are all evident on my face. I have a feeling they are.

He breaks our stare with difficulty. "Good night, B," he says, opening the screen door and disappearing into the darkness.

My "reel" that night consists of one image.

* * *

**Next chapter you can look forward to more Mike Newton action, so hold on to your pants! Literally. **

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	14. It Could Be Sweet

**This chapter is going to make some people mad and some people happy, and I doubt anyone will be totally satisfied. But that, homies, is how I roll.**

**LouderThanSirens and MommaBear, you are tits on toast...which means I like ya. A lot. **

**Jajo and RoseArcadia are just...ze best.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Bella

"I would like to propose a toast," Mike yells, trying to quiet down our raucous laughter. We calm down, raising our glasses in the air, a few of us still giggling. "Thank you for having me up this week. It's incredible to be back here. You have no idea how much I've missed this place and all of you ... especially old peepin' Ms. Mallory, who is probably spying on us as we speak." We laugh, and he waits until we quiet again. "Cheers to us," he says simply, and we reach around the table clinking glasses with those we can reach before drinking.

I'm sitting next to Mike, who is at the head of the table, with Edward on my other side. Mike and Charlie both arrived today, coordinating their flights so they could ride together from the airport. Rose prepared a fucking feast in their honor, and having eaten my weight in barbecued ribs, I consider unfastening the button on my jeans. The conversation flows around me as I rub my full belly, looking down to see if it's visibly protruding.

Mike leans over whispering, "Don't worry, B. Everything looks perfect from here."

I roll my eyes at him, glancing at Edward, who is looking down at my stomach as well, nodding, and then looks up at Mike and gives him a half-hearted smile.

The two of them are actually getting along okay, but there is some obvious underlying strain between the three of us. Mike knows everything about Edward, and Edward knows almost nothing about Mike. Mike, without being unkind, has let Edward know that he's fully aware of our past, but that he has intentions that go beyond just friendship with me. Somehow, he does this without coming off as an insecure asshole.

He's almost impossible to dislike, and despite picking me up and swinging me around when he arrived, he hasn't crossed any boundary that would make Edward uncomfortable. Unfortunately, intentionally keeping his distance in front of Edward seems to have almost the opposite effect, because his restraint is apparent. Edward tries to play it cool, but I can feel him watching me in his peripheral vision.

There is also the issue of our group of friends, all of whom had months to get to know Mike. There are inside jokes that Edward isn't privy to; there are stories about nights at a bar that Edward has never been to. I can feel discomfort radiating off of him when the conversation veers that direction, excluding him almost completely.

I had no idea that watching this happen would make me feel so good and so guilty at the same time. I want to revel in it, because he put himself in the position to miss all of those good times, and to let Mike fill a space that he left when he decided to cut himself off from us. On the other hand, I feel terrible because he's feeling exactly what I felt last summer, and I remember how awful it was.

Actually, he'll feel exactly what I felt last summer if I have sex with Mike.

With Charlie here, I don't see that happening, though. Mike has his own bedroom, and despite how much Charlie likes Mike, he let me know that he would be keeping an eye on us.

After dinner we stay up far too late, although Charlie goes to bed a reasonable hour, warning us to "Keep it PG". He punctuates this with a pointed look in my direction. How embarrassing.

Of course, the second he leaves Emmett starts pouring shots, so PG isn't fucking likely.

Jasper has a playlist for every occasion, and he doesn't fail us tonight, choosing hip-hop from our youth.

"Holy shit, I haven't heard this song in _years_," Rose says as she starts shaking her hips with Alice to an old Dr. Dre song. She and Alice are soon pulling me into their dance circle. Again.

With her arms swaying over her head and hips gyrating, Rose dances over to Mike and pulls him off of the couch. Groaning, he puts down his beer and acts put out before busting a fucking move on our makeshift dance floor. The girls and I respond with squeals and laughter, joining in and trying to get the other boys up from their chairs where they're watching with amusement.

I knew Mike could dance, but I am a little surprised that Edward's got rhythm. He and Emmett move around each other, exaggerating their'gangsta' moves and laughing at each other. Jasper is twirling Alice around and dipping her, sneaking in kisses. I can't stop smiling.

"Bella!" Rose yells over the music. "Remember our dance?" I shake my head vigorously, even though I remember every move. She smiles knowingly and grabs me, making me stand next to her. I glare at her, not believing that she's making me do this. She counts it off and we move in unison around each other in steps we made up in eighth grade.

"Hell yeah! Get it, girl!" Emmett yells, raising his drink in the air and nodding his head in time to the beat. I keep my eyes on the ground, or on Rose, for the first minute, but then peek up to meet Edward's at one point. He's smirking, looking me up and down and quirking an eyebrow.

By the time we get to the part where I bend over in front of Rose and she mimes slapping my ass, we're all laughing hysterically. Mercifully, the song changes then, and we resume non-synchronized dancing.

We dance through songs by Pharcyde, Biggie, Cypress Hill and Fugees before taking a break to cool off. The temperature is in the 80's tonight, and we're all sweating. I mix a drink and leave everyone in the kitchen before stepping out onto the porch into the cool air.

"Fancy meeting you here," I say nerdily to Edward, whose back is to me as he's leaning on the porch railing. He smiles at me over his shoulder and nods his head for me to come over. I can hear Jasper and Mike fighting about what to put on next, everyone else weighing in from the kitchen.

"I feel like I'm always following you onto a deck," I joke, until my words sound back in my head and I realize what he probably thinks I'm referencing. Edward stays silent.

"Dude, sorry. I didn't mean it like that," I mumble, turning to look at him.

"Hey." I dip my head towards him to try to catch his eye, and when I do, he looks monumentally sad. "Edward. What's wrong?"

He takes a drag and exhales and then looks back at me. "I miss you." I've never heard him say anything like that to me; so simple and sweet.

"I'm here," I respond quietly, our eyes on each other.

"You know what I mean," he says.

I think I do, but I want to hear him say the words, so I just look at him expectantly.

"I mean ... I miss being with you."

I can hear Mike groan when Jasper wins the music fight and puts on Portishead. _It Could Be Sweet_ melts into the night through the open windows.

I have nothing to say to that, wishing he could have been saying these words to me a long time ago.

Our silence stretches on and so does our stare. Maybe I'm looking for insincerity, though he's been anything but this summer. All I find is the truth of his words.

I want to run my fingers over his face.

"I miss you, too. But..." I whisper.

I don't know how long we stand like that, but too soon Emmett is bellowing for us to take more shots and join the dance party that had restarted after Jasper's brief emo interlude.

As we're walking in, he whispers, "By the way, I liked your dance." His smile is suggestive.

"I'll bet you did," I say, walking in ahead of him and giving my hips a little extra swing.

We all pass out Rose's that night. Emmett and Jasper drag out the futons and we fall asleep to soft music. I sleep on a couch alone, hoping to avoid awkward sleeping situations.

* * *

Jasper finds me one afternoon when everyone is scattered around the cabins showering and getting ready before dinner. I'm listening to a band that Edward turned me on to, The National, and doing the dishes in my cabin.

"Hey, cuz," he says, helping himself to a beer from my fridge.

"Hey, J. What's going on?" I ask, hoping I don't sound as suspicious as I feel. I can always tell when Jasper has something to say. He's usually slow to come out with it though, so I'm a little on edge.

He senses my tension. "No, nothing bad. Nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you about Mike and Edward." He takes a swig of beer and watches as I finish washing a glass and turn around.

I take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Where are you at with it?" he asks, looking at me seriously. I grab a beer and we walk out onto the porch. Mike is in the shower, and I can't really talk about this knowing he could hear us.

"I don't know, J. I don't know what I want, and it's totally unfair. I like Mike, like, a lot, but then there's Edward, who I shouldn't even be thinking about like that..."

He waits patiently while I collect my thoughts.

"Emmett called me before we came up here, to talk to me about Edward. Things are different with him, now, and I can see that, but I guess I don't know how different. Mike would be good for me. He's probably the best guy I know. I love him so much, but if I really do love him like that, then why would anyone else even factor into the decision to be with him? And on that note, why do I care about Edward's feelings at all? Is he just a bad habit that I need to kick? Fuck, Jasper, I don't know what I'm doing."

My head hangs down from the weight of this conversation.

He considers his words carefully, looking out at the lake. "I think you know what you want, B, but what you want might not be the best thing for you in the end. I think you want Edward, but know it should be Mike."

He pauses, smiling at me. "See how it plays out, but be conscious of the fact that it's unfair to keep Mike waiting if you're pining for Edward. All of us just want you to be happy, no matter what that means."

I smile, knowing that he's right, but also that it's conditional in some ways, or more accurately, to some people.

I decide to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on this topic too long. "So, how are you and Alice?"

His face changes, lighting up. "Alice is amazing," he grins, opening his mouth to say something and then changing his mind.

"What? Spill it." I demand, leaning towards him curiously.

"Um. Fuck. Well, I haven't told Rose. I haven't told anyone, actually, but I'm going to ask my dad for my mom's ring." He peeks at me through his lashes, gauging my reaction, so he's surprised when I launch myself at him in a hard hug.

I can't stop the tears from falling, happy for him and sad about my aunt at the same time. I know that Carlisle will give him the ring, but know it will be hard for all of them, especially Rose. Not because of the ring, but because their mom won't be there to see him go through this part of life.

We go back into the kitchen for more beer and sit at the bar.

When Alice comes in looking for Jasper and finds the two of us, teary and drinking beers, telling stories about our moms, she doesn't hesitate to sit down and listen.

Soon, she's laughing and crying along with us, and I can't wait for her to officially be a part of our family.

* * *

Jasper, Emmett, Edward and Mike have formed a sort of a pack. The testosterone kicked in and they spend the days doing daredevil stunts on water skis and daring each other to do stupid shit. It's like living in a Jackass movie; amusing, slightly dangerous, and hot ... because they're all shirtless.

"Cannonball!" Rose yells. She, Alice and I run and jump off the end of the dock, aiming for perfect symmetry. We all hit the water at the same time and bob back up, looking back at the boys, who are lined up in chairs on the beach, admiring the view, no doubt.

We earn a 9.3 from the guys, and then take their places on the chairs to watch them attempt to execute a quadruple cannonball. They get a 6.8, but only because we insist that they do it naked. Their form is crap. I look up to see Mrs. Mallory on the edge of her seat, binoculars glued to her eyes. My eyes waver between the perfect asses of Edward and Mike.

_Fuck._

Obviously, Charlie had to go back to Washington for business, or the nudity wouldn't be kosher.

Now that he's gone and we're staying alone in my cabin, I think that tonight is the night things are going to start getting intimate with Mike. We still keep a certain distance when everyone is around, but when we get back to my cabin and it's just the two of us, it escalates quickly.

He feels really good, his skin smooth and hot under my hands. By the time our shirts are on the floor and our chests are pressed together, there's no doubt in my mind that I want this.

I'm lying to myself, of course. There's doubt. I'm just choosing to ignore it.

I press harder against him, exhaling sharply. I don't want to stop.

When he slides my jeans down over my hips, I'm shaking with anticipation. No one has touched me-really touched me-in a very long time.

He doesn't waste time, his mouth on me and fingers curling in me in seconds. I don't last long. I feel like I've been on the verge of orgasm for a few months, so it's quick and intense and I breathe out a string of profanity, trying to keep my voice down as much as I can. My bedroom windows are wide open.

He lays his head on my stomach while I recover, placing small kisses below my belly button.

But I don't want to come down, so I pull him up, fumbling with his belt, kissing his neck. He stops my hands, undoing his jeans and pulling them down, his boxer briefs not hiding much. We kiss a little, but I'm anxious and ready, so I pull him out and into my mouth quickly. I'm good at this. I may be inexperienced in some areas, but giving head isn't one of them.

He tries to stay quiet, but a slow "fuuuuuck" escapes his lips while he watches me. He doesn't last long, either.

Afterward, I crawl up to put my head on his shoulder and we lay quietly for a minute.

Now that the blurry sexual energy is subsiding, I can feel the unease approaching. I throw a leg across him, pushing myself up to straddle him.

He stops me before I can, though, holding me to the bed and against his side. He strokes my arm, looking me in the eyes. I think I manage to contain the agitation I'm feeling at our inactivity, but whatever Mike finds while looking at my face keeps him from letting me go any further.

"Bella," he sighs, not in frustration, but in sympathy.

I can't look at him then, shame erasing the agitation and taking over.

I'm a horrible person. I basically just used him to get off, even though I think I know that he isn't what I want. I'm toying with person who has been nothing but amazing to me. I don't deserve him.

He holds me for a long time. I don't cry and we don't speak. When he leaves to go to his room, he's not angry or disappointed or even hurt. His concern for me is the only thing apparent, which makes me feel worse. I want to ask him to stay and sleep with me, but I don't. I spend most of the night staring at the moon outside of my window, trying to figure out what just happened, and what I should do.

* * *

Even with Mike and my dad here, Edward still showed up on the deck every morning. Now that Charlie's gone, I wasn't sure if he would continue, but I'm still surprised when he's not there the next day.

Mike wakes up after I do, finding me listening to Nick Drake, sipping coffee on the couch. I'm tired and have a headache.

"Morning," he mumbles cheerily, shuffling to the kitchen to get coffee. He flops next to me on the couch when he returns, stretching his arm along the back of the couch and behind my back.

I smile sadly at him.

"Talk to me, girl," Mike says, taking a long moment to read the look on my face and leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees.

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Come on. You see how fucked up this situation is, don't you? I feel like a total asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Bella. I guess it's weird, I mean he's obviously still stuck on you," he says, looking out at the deck to the chair where Edward usually sits in the morning before I let him in. "Look," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I love kissing you. I love...everything. I hope last night isn't something you regret..." he pauses, watching me. My face gets hot, remembering. "But I think it is."

He stops me when I open my mouth to speak. "I know it's not because of me, so don't even start with the apologies. I understand that and I'm not mad. I knew that this could happen. Things are unfinished between you two. I want nothing more than to be with you, but I just don't see that happening right now."

I slump back on the couch, letting his words sink in.

"I've been really unfair to you," I say apologetically, looking down.

"I'm not complaining," he says gently. "At least I got to see your tits," he laughs, ducking when I go to smack him on the back of the head.

He opens his arms and I snuggle against him while he rubs my back. I love that things can be this easy with him.

"So. Friends?" he asks, pulling me back to look at my face.

I smile up at him and kiss him one last time on the lips.

* * *

Edward is kind of a dick all day.

Something flipped, and almost every word out of his mouth is acidic and harsh. He guzzles beer all afternoon and then switches to whiskey. By the time we get to dinner, he's wasted and won't take off his sunglasses. Even though I don't know for sure, I get the feeling that he's glaring at me.

I'm telling a story about the time Alice and I got kicked out of a bar for being too rowdy and I hear Edward mutter something under his breath before taking a sip of his whiskey. It sounds like "fucking stupid." I stop talking abruptly, turning to look at him.

"What did you just say?" I demand, my tone confrontational.

He snorts, leaning forward to speak condescendingly to me. "I _said_ that's fucking stupid."

"Here we fucking go," Emmett sighs, his face tight.

"What the hell is your problem, Edward?" Rose bites at him. I put my hand up for her to stop.

"You're being incredibly rude," I say calmly, keeping my gaze on his sunglasses. It's really annoying to not be able to see his eyes right now. Mike shifts next to me, and then gets up.

"I'm going to run next door. I want to grab that CD I told you about," he says to Jasper, squeezing my shoulder before he walks out.

Edward and I stare each other down.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask tightly, getting up and walking through the cabin to the back door, which we rarely use. We'll have a little more privacy for this conversation on this side of the cabin. I lean on Emmett's truck, waiting for him.

He walks steadily, but I can tell he's drunk. He lights a cigarette, acting aloof.

"What's the deal?" I ask, frustrated.

"What's the deal?" he mimics me. His voice is cruel. "The fucking deal, Bella, is that you're fucking with me; flirting with that kid in front of me and shit," he says, ashing his cigarette, looking at the ground.

"I can't imagine how that feels," I say bitterly.

"Are you punishing me or something? Trying to make me feel like you felt?" he asks, angrily. "Well, believe me, I get it. So you can stop now."

"You're comparing you and Tanya with me and Mike? Really?" I'm incredulous.

"Are you fucking him?" he raises his voice.

I recoil. "What I'm doing is none of your business," I snap.

"Oh really? So how come before he got here you were acting like you wanted to suck my dick?" he taunts, taking a step closer to me, flicking his cigarette into a can that we use as an ashtray.

Even when he was a cocky fucker last summer, he never talked to me like that. It hits a little too close to home, but my guilt is gone for the moment. He doesn't get to demean me.

He did this. He started this. This entire situation isn't my fault, and he's not going to treat me like trash.

My hand flies up to snatch the sunglasses off of his face and I throw them on the ground, probably scratching the expensive lenses. I don't care. I need to see his eyes.

"_Fuck you_," I say, my jaw clenched.

When I try to rush past him to stomp back in the cabin, he grabs my arm, holding me back. He pulls me to him, hands holding my upper body tight.

His mouth on mine is sweet, warm and insistent. I can taste whiskey and cigarettes on his breath, but I don't care. I should remain motionless, but find my lips moving against his desperately. Tears gather in my eyes. This is what I've wanted for so long that it almost physically hurts to get it now.

Making a strangled noise, I wrench my arms free and slam both hands against his chest, pushing him backwards. He stumbles.

"You can't just _do_ that! You can't just have whatever you want!" I'm shaking. "You can't just have me because you're jealous," I spit out.

"And you can't justify dangling Mike in front of me, because you know he's not who you want," he says this resolutely; like there is no chance it could be any other way.

My voice is quieter now, tears peeking through. "Even if that's true, what reason do I have to be with you? Wanting it isn't enough. Not anymore. How can I know that you...?"

"Because for as long as it takes, I'm going to be here." I think I see a tear on his cheek, but it's hard to tell in the dark. He puts his face in his hands. "I heard you last night, Bella," he says, his voice tortured.

"What, were you spying on me?" I try to sound offended, but it comes off shaky.

"I couldn't sleep and wanted to see if you were still up," he admits, squeezing his eyes shut. "If you knew how hard it was for me to keep myself from coming in there and kicking the shit out of him..." he shakes his head, probably trying to rid himself of the mental image.

I suppose this would be an ideal point in the conversation to fill Edward in on what Mike and I talked about this morning, but for some reason I hold that information back.

I'm not ready to show my hand. Grandiose declarations aside, I can't just give it up so easily. It's not about punishing him, though. It's about getting to things when I'm ready.

He steps forward again, his hand coming up to brush away a tear. "Just ... please. Don't make the mistake I made," he pleads.

"I should get back inside," I say, wiping my face on my sleeves and giving him one last, long look before walking away.

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	15. Lotions and Potions and Lists

**You are all amazing. I'm tongue-tied...which is unprecedented.**

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* * *

Edward

I'm on her deck the morning after my drunken outburst, despite the fact that my head feels like it was rolled over by a Mack truck.

I've been trying really hard to keep the sounds I heard a few nights ago from echoing through my mind. It's almost impossible.

I hope I'm not hung over enough to throw up.

When the screen door squeaks on its hinges, I look up to find Bella peeking through, her hair tangled and her eyes sleepy. She doesn't say anything, but motions for me to come in.

I follow her as she pads into the kitchen, trying to run her fingers through her hair. She's already dressed, which is too bad, because I love seeing her in her pajamas. My mood darkens considerably when I think about Mike seeing her in her pajamas, though. I peek down the hallway before I sit at the bar, and I can see Mike's feet hanging off of the end of the guest bed. I try not to audibly sigh in relief, knowing that'll piss her off.

After turning on the coffee maker she turns to face me, leaning against the counter across the kitchen. She looks ready to say something.

"I'm sorry," I say before she can start.

She smiles a little, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I know, but I need you to stop apologizing."

I don't understand, so I shake my head, frowning.

"What I mean is, I need you to stop doing things that you need to apologize for," she explains.

_Oh. Right._

"I'm sorry," I blurt, before I realize I'm saying sorry for saying sorry, and sound like an idiot.

"Shit. I meant to say, I'm going to try really hard to not be a jackass. Oh, and I'm obviously never drinking whiskey again," I say, trying to make light of how shitty I feel, and probably look.

She smiles, but then her face darkens as she looks at me. "I'm sorry, too," she whispers, "I know how that feels." The last part is totally a dig at me, but I don't react because I know she's right.

My chest aches and I feel like I can't breathe, but I force a smile and watch her pour the coffee.

We move on to discussing hangover cures, and our conversation feels almost normal until Mike gets up. He sits in a chair, instead of next to Bella on the couch. I try not to smile at that, but then I flash back to Bella's moans cutting through the air and I don't have to try.

He tells us that he, Rose and Emmett are going to spend the day on the boat, inviting Bella and I to come. I cite my hangover as an excuse, but I'm surprised when Bella opts out. He doesn't look as disappointed as I thought he would.

A few hours later, I'm rubbing suntan lotion on Bella's back, while Jasper does Alice's. Bella seems to have decided that she's going to take me up on every single thing that I mentioned in my email a month ago. Literally every fucking thing.

I'm not complaining, though.

Jasper, however, is.

Alice, not knowing that Bella and I have an agreement, is making Jasper do everything along with me.

He's been glaring at me pretty much all day, and he bitched me out on the drive to the drug store, where we did, in fact, have to purchase tampons. I didn't want to tell him about what I heard, and what I think happened, but Jasper has a way of cutting through the bullshit, and I spilled my guts.

Touching Bella's skin is making me think of touching her lips. I fight to keep the images of her looking angry, flushed and perfect out of my mind. I see her eyes flashing and lips swollen…and then I hear a moan.

I want to beat the memory of that sound out of my head. I take my hands off of her skin for a moment, clenching my fists and releasing them and trying to control my breathing.

Jasper watches me carefully, taking in my tension and warning me with a look. This is something I'm going to have to deal with like an adult, which is not my strong suit.

In the late afternoon she decides she wants to get out of the sun, and asks for the foot massage I promised her. She must have memorized that email. Damn.

Jasper looks at us with disdain and then turns to look at Alice, probably hoping that she doesn't want a foot rub, too. She does.

Bella chuckles and we head up the stairs to her cabin. She puts on music and grabs lotion while I make her a drink and grab a beer for myself.

I've never rubbed a girl's feet before. Her lotion smells minty and herbal, and she lays with her eyes closed, letting out an occasional giggle when I hit a ticklish spot. I watch her face closely, her eyes twitching behind her lids and her lips moving along to the lyrics of the songs on her stereo.

"E?" she asks when I'm finishing rubbing in the lotion, sitting up on her elbows.

"Yes, B?" I answer, releasing her foot and grabbing my beer.

She doesn't answer right away, her eyes on mine, searching. I have no idea what she's looking for, so I probably just look confused.

She looks down, curling her legs under her and idly playing with her hair. Her face wears a frown while she seems to consider her words.

She straightens up, looking at me again. "So, Mike and I talked." She sighs, looking down again. "We aren't … going to pursue a relationship."

She fidgets, pursing her lips as she watches my reaction.

"So…what does that mean?" I ask carefully.

She shrugs. "I'm not really sure," she admits, frowning.

I move closer to her and she stiffens at my proximity. Not necessarily a good sign.

"You know what I want," I say seriously, wanting her to understand, but trying not to overwhelm her.

She nods in time to the music, looking out the window.

When she speaks, it's quietly. "I'm just trying to figure out if what I want is going to end up being something that is really bad for me."

"You want to know if I'm going to fuck this up again," I state, understanding. She nods again. "I wish I could make you understand..." She won't look at me, her eyes fixed on her cocktail. "I think I have something that will help you see," I say, reaching into my pocket for something I've been carrying around for months. I'm glad I have it on me.

She watches curiously as I pull out the folded piece of paper and hold it between my fingers, fingering the paper.

I hear a boat approaching, assuming it's Emmett, Rose and Mike. I wish I had done this earlier, when we had more time.

I hand her the piece of paper, hesitating before I get off of the couch.

She looks surprised. "Where are you going?"

I look down at the white square and reply "I'm going to go shower. I just…you should open that after I go."

I start to walk towards the door, but look back to see her watching me. I walk back to her, dropping to my knees in front of the couch and putting one hand on her ankle, trying to determine if she wants me to touch her. When her hand moves to my neck, I move in to put my press my mouth to hers.

It's physically painful to leave her there, but I can't watch her read it, and I need some time to clear my head.

* * *

Bella

I turn the paper over in my hand. It's creased and worn, like it's been in his wallet for a while.

When I hear voices approaching, I get up quickly and go in my room, shutting the door. I hope they think I'm taking a nap and don't disturb me.

Sitting on my bed I unfold the paper slowly, biting my lip.

It's the same handwriting throughout, but the pen colors are different, and some of the lines look like they were written hurriedly, while some are neat. Ink dots the page and there is a stain that looks like coffee in the bottom right corner.

It almost looks like a poem, but it's not. It's a list.

_When she calls you out on your bullshit._

_The fact that you actually want to know everything about her, and you want her to know everything about you, even the shitty stuff._

_That she made you a scarf, that you sleep with it under your pillow and that you almost cried when it stopped smelling like her._

_That she told you off on Christmas, in front of her entire family and yours, and did it well._

_The look she gets on her face when she talks about music._

_Her intelligence._

_Her skin._

_Her laugh._

_The fifth of July. _

_Nothing seems good without her. _

_That even without you she seems okay, because she's strong._

_That you respect her enough to give her space, even though you want to call her and tell her you'll fly there to see her tonight._

_The fact that you would actually hop a plane this fucking instant if she said you should._

_That she will love your bbq ribs when you make them, because she actually eats like a normal-ass person._

_That she probably _will_ be a bitch._

_That you'll take the punishment even if she doesn't forgive you._

_That you've never changed for anyone, but you would do it for her. _

I read it again. It's obvious that this is something he's been adding to over the last few months. It makes my chest hurt when I think about how I spent those months with Mike, actually feeling really good. The ache becomes painful when I think of Mike and I on this bed a few nights ago.

I remind myself why I was there in the first place, though. He did that. It wasn't my fault. I hate that I feel even a little bit guilty, because if this is going to be…anything…I have to let go of some things. I need to reconcile the Edward in my memory with the person in front of me now.

I proved to myself that I could move on and be okay. Now if I want him, I have to trust him.

My heart speeds up, beating out a warning as I consider the possibility.

_Can I do this?_

I'm not sure, but I'm going to try.

* * *

Bella

Emmett and Rose offer to take Mike to the airport, because Rose wants to do some shopping and Emmett just enjoys driving large vehicles way too fast. They plan to stay in a hotel for the night.

Mike and I hug long and hard. I'm on the verge of tears. He pulls back, holding my hands and looking me up and down.

"You really are making it hard for me to accept that I don't get to make out with you anymore," he says quietly, looking me up and down. I follow his eyes down, shrugging at my minimal clothing. Edward is standing in the doorway of Rose's cabin, just out of earshot. I can see him out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh, shut up," I laugh, lightly pushing his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you," I admit, my smile fading.

"You too, B," he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek and lift me off of the ground in another hug. When he puts me down, his eyes snap to the deck, where Edward took a few steps forward and is now at the top of the stairs, his posture tense.

Instead of acknowledging that, Mike walks up to him with his hand outstretched. "Bye, man. It's been real." His smile is genuine.

Edward hesitates but grabs his hand, returning the smile and relaxing his shoulders.

Mike says something to him that I can't hear, before clapping Edward on the shoulder and turning around to get his bags in the car. I try to decipher the look on Edward's face and decide it's somewhere between impressed and mystified.

Rose gives me a long look before she gets in the car, her eyes moving between Edward and me. I smile and shrug. She doesn't smile back.

Emmett's truck peels out with music blaring. Mike sticks his head out as they speed away, offering one final wave before they disappear around a corner.

Jasper, Alice, Edward and I walk back inside to clean up the dishes from breakfast. I'm waiting to get Edward alone so I can ask him what Mike said to him, even though he probably won't tell me.

Jasper is taking Alice out camping on an island on the lake overnight. It's her first time camping and she is very wary of the entire process. As much as she enjoys it here and has embraced our lifestyle, Alice isn't what I would call 'outdoorsy'.

As Edward and I help them carry down a cooler and a few bags to the boat, Alice is drilling us on different scenarios that could occur during the trip.

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?" she asks skeptically.

"You just go behind a tree or something, Alice," I answer.

"What if we see a bear?" she fires back, her eyes terrified.

"Run downhill. Jasper knows what to do. If it's too bad you can always turn around and come back, although I doubt that'll happen." Jasper helps her into the boat and she stares at me helplessly, like she's on her way to the guillotine. I can't help but laugh.

She sends me a dirty look before snuggling up to Jasper in the captain's chair while he backs the boat away from the dock. Edward and I wave them off and watch until they round the peninsula and ride out of sight.

I realize that we've got the whole day and night to ourselves and anticipation makes me jumpy and excitable.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask, turning to look at Edward standing next to me.

"I was thinking I would go for a run and catch up on some reading. Maybe do some laundry," he answers, shrugging. My excitement immediately dies.

I nod. The day doesn't hold any promise now. I swear the sun dimmed a little.

"Bella, I'm fucking kidding. Like I would waste a day that I could spend alone with you," he says, his face breaking into a big smile. My answering grin is immediate and bigger than I'd like. So much for remaining even a tiny bit aloof, though I suppose we're past that now.

He turns around to face the beach, and pauses, reaching out to me. I slip my hand into his and we walk down the dock, sneaking looks at each other and grinning.

I stop suddenly, remembering something. He looks confused as I pull my hand from his and start digging through my pockets. When I produce the folded up list he just looks down at it in my palm.

He looks confused again. "Don't you want it?" he asks.

"I want you to keep it. Just in case you forget," I say quietly.

His bright smile is unexpected and makes me laugh in disbelief, furrowing my brow. It seems like a completely inappropriate reaction.

"What are you smiling about?" I ask, still not getting it.

He bites his lower lip and moves a little closer, whispering "I'm smiling because there is no way I'm going to forget, Bella."

He grabs the list anyway, putting it in his pocket and grabbing my hand to pull me up the stairs, looking back at me every few steps, wearing a giant grin.

* * *

**AHHH! Very transitional chapter, but very necessary. **

**Can I tell you a secret? The next chapter is my favorite thus far. I'm so excited to post it that I'm going to give you a juicy teaser on Sunday. **

**I was nominated for an Indie Twific Award. If you haven't voted, get yo butt over there.**

**http://theindietwificawards(dot)com/vote(dot)aspx**


	16. Juicy Fruit

**Read this one slow...like honey.**

**I love my betas, LouderThanSirens and Momma Bear. **

**I love my twilighted beta Jajo and her partner in crime RoseArcadia.**

**I love my girls BelleDean and Stephk0525 for their words and support and for cracking me the eff up.**

**I love twilight, but it's not mine.**

* * *

Bella

"So really, though, what do you want to do? The world is our oyster," I say as we get to the top of the stairs.

"I have an idea," he responds, smiling but looking like he has a secret. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat. Wait, why do you have that look on your face?" I question as we walk into my cabin, happy he wants to cook for me again. He doesn't answer, but heads for the kitchen, opens the fridge and stands in front of it. It's already hot out. He's shirtless, and his skin has a fine sheen of sweat. I move to sit on a stool at the bar, watching him intensely as he takes inventory of my food.

He shuts the fridge door without taking anything out and turns to give me a wicked smile. It's been so long since I've seen it that it quite literally takes my breath away. I'm sure I'm visibly affected, because his smile widens and his tongue peeks out to lick the corner of his mouth.

_Goddamn._

I can't speak.

"We're going to try a little experiment. It's going to heighten your senses."

I don't tell him that if my senses get any more heightened that might spontaneously combust.

"First, you need to put this on," he says, pulling a green bandana out of his back pocket and folding it into a strip.

"You're blindfolding me?" I ask, incredulous. "You'd better not do anything mean," I warn as he moves behind me and pulls the bandana over my eyes. I feel him tie it and pull my hair out from under the tie of my bikini top, letting it fan across my bare back, which arches slightly at the contact.

I can feel the heat of his body radiating behind me, and jump a little when his lips are at my ear.

"I'm going to sit you on the counter, okay?" His breath is warm and sweet, and I can smell a little bit of sweat mixed with the clean scent of his skin. He takes my hand and helps me off of the stool, guiding me around the counter with his palm on my lower back, sending shivers down the backs of my legs and making me break out in goose bumps.

"See, it's working already," he says softly, and I can hear that he's smiling. I feel the counter against my back, and his big hands close around my waist, easily lifting me onto the cool marble. I'm wearing shorts, and the smooth counter feels good on the back of my legs. I let out a shaky breath while I listen to him open the fridge again and place things on the counter next to me.

I can hear a knife slicing something, and what sounds like a spoon stirring liquid in a bowl. Minutes pass, and the stirring noise continues.

"Edward," I whine; uncomfortable with my blindness and wanting to watch his hands work.

The noise stops, and his breath is on my neck. "I like to hear you say my name like that."

He can't see me roll my eyes in response, so I mutter "Whatever", which makes him chuckle. More minutes pass, and I do my best to be patient, biting my lip and sliding my hands over the marble.

"Okay, open your mouth," he instructs. I comply, and then there is a piney, citrus, flavor on my tongue.

"Mango?" I chew the fruit carefully and slowly, but juice drips down my chin a little. I reach up to wipe it away, but warm fingers close around my wrist before I can.

"I'd like to do that, if that's okay. And yes, it's mango." His voice is strained, and he places my hand back in my lap. I'm stretched like a rubber band about to snap from the sexual tension.

He doesn't use a towel, but his fingers, to wipe away the mango juice. A few moments pass before he asks me to open my mouth again. This time the flavor is softer and earthier, but still sweet. I detect tiny seeds.

"Strawberry…with something else. Mint?" I ask, licking my lips.

After another moment of silence, he responds in the affirmative. I want to reach out and grab him. I can feel where he is next to me, even though we're not touching. I want to touch. I keep my hands in my lap though, because this is torture, but it's sweet torture.

"Open," he commands, and I obey immediately, my heart stuttering in my chest while I wait, hoping I'll feel his hands on me soon. Instead, something solid hits my tongue, and when I close my mouth, I realize it's the tip of his finger, dipped in something creamy and light. I suck at it until he slides the finger out slowly, resting it on my lower lip, his other fingers splayed across my jaw. We've been here before. I exhale, wondering how close he is to me, and if he's watching himself against my mouth.

When he moves his hand I feel lost, and my fingers contract, wanting to feel him again.

"Whipped cream," I whisper, rubbing my lips together, trying to slow my breathing. I wiggle on the counter, shifting my position.

"Open," he says again, and this time the juice drips down my chin and onto my chest, running down into my cleavage and all the way down to the waistband of my shorts. I don't attempt to wipe it up this time, but chew, swallow and then sit still.

"Can I-"

"Yes," I interrupt, knowing that no matter what he asks, the answer is yes, yes, yes.

The front of my body warms as he gets closer, and I can hear that his breath is labored. When he closes his mouth over the skin just below my collarbone I gasp, gripping the edge of the counter. He places one palm on the middle of my back, pulling me forward slightly. I let my head fall back as he moves between my breasts and I moan softly as the warm wet of his tongue moves up my chest.

"Oh god," I whisper, biting my lip to keep myself from saying anything else.

His other hand lingers at my waist, pulling me towards the edge of the counter as his mouth moves up the side of my neck slowly, toward my ear and then up my jaw line. He kisses the juice off of my chin and then stops, his breath on my lips. He must be an inch away.

We sit this way for a minute, him between my thighs. The only movement in the room is the rising and falling of our chests, and his thumb lightly massaging the space just below my hipbone. I'm still gripping the counter, but when our lips touch one hand flies up to grab the back of his neck and the other moves into the back of his hair. He reaches up and pulls the blindfold off of my eyes. I back up and look at him for second, before crashing back into his lips.

Despite the buildup, our kiss isn't fast. It's deep and solid and firm. It's a kiss with purpose. My legs wrap around his waist and he lifts me off of the counter, supporting my weight and trying to get closer.

When he pulls back, I'm not surprised to see a wet trail down his cheek, because mine are wet too. He ducks his head and kisses his way down my neck, maybe hoping I didn't see the tear.

He doesn't know that all I needed to see was that tear.

We kiss until my lips are sore, and his arms must be sore from holding me, so I lean back and nod towards the counter. He sets me down, but stays in front of me, his hands on either side of me.

My hands are on his chest, his arms, feeling every muscle under the smooth skin. I want more. I want to climb on top of him. I want to take off his clothes and kiss every inch of him, but I know that for now this is what we need.

So instead of asking him questions, instead of polluting the moment with definitions or grand statements, I simply raise my eyebrows and whisper softly.

"Pineapple?"

* * *

It's hard to follow up something like Edward feeding me blindfolded, but somehow the day keeps getting better and better. We feed each other more fruit for lunch, staying in our positions at the counter until I realize that I really have to pee.

As I come out of the bathroom he's waiting, leaning against a door frame and grinning at me. When I approach he puts his palm on my stomach, where my skin is still sticky from the pineapple juice.

"Want to swim?" He asks, his eyes watching his hand on my skin. I just smile in response, stretching up to kiss him, before I take off running.

"Race you!" I yell behind me as I fly down the stairs, stripping off my shorts when I hit the beach and tossing them back at him as he runs behind me. He catches me before I can run down the dock, spinning me around in the air and kissing my lips.

We jump together and then swim to our floating dock, where we lay on our stomachs and he trails his fingers up and down my back, telling me about the dinner he has planned. The way the flavors complement each other, the wine, the selection of a good piece of fish. He murmurs in my ear, and every muscle that tightened during our "experiment" starts to relax.

I think about the day, realizing that I almost forgot about Mike.

We've been silent for a while, so I clear my throat before I speak. "What did Mike say to you this morning?"

I turn my face to look at his. His eyes are closed and his face is calm. I trace my fingers over his eyelids. When I pull my hand away he opens his eyes, taking a moment to focus on me.

"He told me to jump in headfirst," he breathes, our faces close. Both of us smile.

We lay for about an hour, before we get thirsty and swim in, stopping halfway to float and find pictures in the clouds.

When we get upstairs, it's late afternoon, and he starts to leave to shower at his cabin, but I grab his hand and he turns back, pulling him with me into my bathroom.

"See? Spacious. Room for two," I say, turning the water on. He's looking down at the floor, hesitating. "Edward. We don't need to do anything you're not comfortable with."

I find it funny that I have to assure him that I won't try to molest him in the shower, given our past, but I understand it at the same time. He's afraid that sex is all I'll see between us, and maybe he's afraid it's all he'll see.

Either way I decide to stop analyzing everything within an inch of its life, and live in the moment, and at this very moment I'm looking at the prospect of seeing Edward naked again.

Facing him, I reach behind me and undo the knot tying my top on and let it drop it to the floor. I slide my bottoms down and toss them aside as well.

The atmosphere isn't sexy, though I'm aroused.

It feels like I'm shedding a skin, revealing a brighter color underneath.

When he drops his shorts, I fight to keep my eyes above his chest, and almost make it, but my horny brain betrays me, and I chance one glance down.

_Damn._

My hand flies up to my mouth and I stifle a giggle, my eyes wide.

"Are you seriously laughing at me while I'm naked?" He asks, his mouth hanging open.

"Yes! Apparently on the inside I'm still a twelve year old," I laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the shower.

The water is cool, and I close my eyes, letting it run over my body. When I open them, he's grabbing my bottle of shampoo, watching my face. I hold out my hand and he squeezes some into my palm and then into his own. We wash our hair together; when his is sudsy he makes it into a Mohawk and sings a few bars of a punk rock song to me, his voice echoing around the room. I laugh and sing the next lines while I rinse my hair, shaking my hips to the silent beat.

He hands me a bar of soap and watches while I lather it in my hands and slip it back to him. I take my time washing my body, and so does he. I don't watch when he soaps below the waist, turning around so I won't be tempted. When his arms reach around me, though, I lean back into him, feeling him against my back. We stand pressed together in the spray until our skin is squeaky clean and the water gets too cold.

Stepping out, we towel off and I go to find clothes to wear for the rest of the night. He throws his shorts on and goes back to his cabin to change as well. The second he's out the door, I grab my journal and write furiously about fruit and sensory deprivation and cloud pictures. I have just enough time before he comes back to put on mascara and put product in my hair. I put on a cotton shift dress and sandals, pulling out a hoodie for when it gets cold tonight.

He's got a basket in hand when he comes through the screen door and he's wearing a green t-shirt that makes his eyes glow.

"And now I'm going to cook you dinner, beautiful girl," he says, kissing me when I walk up. He reaches into the basket and pulls out two bottles of wine, opening one right away and pouring two glasses. The first is a Sauvignon Blanc, and I sip it slowly, enjoying watching him move around my kitchen.

He makes salmon, risotto and green beans, the colors on the plate in front of me are vibrant and everything is delicious. We listen to Ella Fitzgerald while we clean the kitchen after dinner, joking about what Jasper and Alice are probably doing at this very moment.

We guess that Alice is still trying to find an acceptable place to pee.

After dinner, he fixes us drinks, though we hardly need them after two bottles of wine, and we move out to the deck so he can smoke and we can watch the moon on the water.

He and I sit quietly for a while, a slight breeze blowing off the lake and crickets chirping along with the music in the cabin. We hold hands, and his thumb rubs slow circles over my knuckles.

When he clears his throat, I get a sense of foreboding.

"Bella?" he asks, his voice a little choked.

"Yeah?" I answer, hoping my tone comes off light.

"I think we need to talk about this." He says this with finality, like there isn't another option. Maybe there isn't.

"Okay?" I respond cautiously, not liking the direction he's going.

"I think I need to explain some things," he says, sounding nervous. "Last summer…"

I snort a little, retracting my hand from his and sitting forward a little bit so I can turn and look at him. "I've dealt with last summer. I spent a year dealing with last summer. I don't know what else there is to say about it." I keep my voice even, but my chest is constricting in on itself.

"I understand," he sighs, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes, "but I don't think we can move forward without having this conversation."

I soften, knowing he's right, and nod for him to go on.

"Ask me anything you want. I promise to be completely honest. Then if it's okay with you, I have a few questions for you."

I can tell this is something he's thought about this at length. I've thought about all the things I would ask him if given the chance. One question in particular had been bothering me, since Rose brought it up. I decide that I won't ask this one first.

I swallow hard. "What really happened with you and Tanya?" I cringe when I say her name.

His leg starts bouncing, and I can see that he's trying to find the right words. "Didn't start with an easy one, did you?" he asks, shaking his head. "Shit. Okay. I'm not sure how much you want to know, but I've known her since I was 16. She was my first, and I was hers," he glances at me sheepishly, gauging my reaction. "She was never my girlfriend, but I suppose she was the closest person to that … until you. I didn't know she was coming. She mentioned it before I left, but I didn't expect her to just show up. That's her style, though."

I want more. "So I get all that, but then...why?" I swallow hard, knowing I'm going to have to say it. "Why did you…fuck her? We were happy. I was happy, at least."

He nods, steeling himself. "I was happy, too. But I didn't know what I was doing. I've never done this before. I guess I got scared. God, that sounds so fucking lame," he laughs at himself, but there's no real humor in it.

I ignore it and press him further. "What about now? Do you, like, hang out with her?"

"No. Things changed. I told her I didn't want to see her anymore, even as a friend. I feel shitty about that, too. Not to defend her, but she was only playing a part that she'd played a thousand times between us. She's incidental. I was the one who should have acted right."

I bristle at his defense of her, even though it's totally true.

Not that I feel bad about hating every fiber of her being or anything.

I knew the first question would be hard, but I struggle to ask the next, thinking it may be even harder for him to answer. "Will you tell me about your dad?" I ask softly.

Rose told me a few things about Edward and Emmett's father, but really I just know that she hasn't met him, even though he lives in Los Angeles, and that he's a tyrant.

His eyes grow distant as he starts talking, and his voice is flat. "I don't really know my father. What I do now is that he's the worst person I've ever known. Up until a few months ago, I didn't care that I was turning into him, but I care now."

It's pretty obvious that he's changed and that he's extremely sensitive about the subject, so I don't push him to explain. My mind is already on my next question, and how bad the answer is going to hurt.

"How many people have you slept with since we were together last?"

The segue is abrupt, and his eyes widen while he catches up to my train of thought.

"Since last summer, probably like…" his hands cover his eyes, and he rocks back and forth slightly. I feel like I'm going to throw up. "…eight. Since Christmas, none."

I exhale slowly and sit still for a second, trying to dispel the nausea, while processing the number eight and wondering if I should be relieved, because it could've been worse.

"It's going to take me a minute to wrap my head around that number, and the fact that you aren't even really sure that it's accurate," I respond truthfully, knowing that I'm going to have to deal with that at some point.

"I promised total honesty. Unfortunately in my case, the truth is really fucking ugly." His agitation is clear. He's flushed and can't stop fidgeting.

"Agreed," I mumble, angry, but I know this is just as hard for him as it is for me, so I decide to turn the tables. "Okay. Go ahead. Ask me anything."

"How many people have you slept with since last summer?" he asks quickly, taking a deep breath once the question is out.

"None."

"Really?" he scoffs, looking relieved, which pisses me the fuck off.

I decide to clarify.

"I went through a bad period, though. September and October are kind of a blur. I was drinking a lot, hanging out at stupid bars and being very … reckless," I answer bitterly. "I was just smart enough not to have sex with any of them."

"How many?" he asks, his jaw clenching and his hands tightening into fists.

"Oh, I don't know … eight?" I joke snidely.

"Fuck. It was because of me, right? Why you were drinking and … oh fuck." He runs his fingers through his hair, looking pained.

Standing up, he walks to the railing and turns around to face me, his voice loud. "Why didn't someone do something? Rose? Jasper? Fucking Emmett didn't say anything. Fuck. How could they just let you …" he fades off, his expression transforming from anger to sadness. I imagine that he's thinking about the girls in bars that he's treated like trash.

"I'm an adult, Edward. Nobody _let_ me do anything. I just wanted to feel something good, and the way I saw you act," I stop, trying to find the right way to say this. "I wanted to understand what was so much better…why it was better than what we had."

He steps forward, dropping to his knees in front of me.

"Nothing is better than this," he says quietly and slowly. "Nothing is better than you."

I nod, holding back tears, and he looks almost frantic, wanting me to understand.

He stands up and picks me up, turning around and sitting back down with me on his lap. We don't talk but I keep one hand on the side of his neck, reassuring him with my touch.

He spends the night again, and I fall asleep wondering what the next day will hold. I wonder if we can move past this. I think we can.

* * *

**I'm sorry if you were longing for lemons, sweet readers, but it's on the horizon! I like a slow-mo build with heat and tension and bated breath...so there are some great one-shots out there if you need immediate gratification. **

**HEE! Kidding. Kinda.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	17. The truth is all there is

**For once, I have nothing to say! Enjoy my brief silence. Unless you follow me on twitter.**

**Much love to the betas, LouderThanSirens and Momma Bear, and to my twilighted jv beta jajo and of course to RoseArcadia.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Edward

This girl is all there is.

She makes me right. She makes me good. I would give up everything for her.

She cries, and I hold her. I want to wipe her tears away, but also need to see them. I deserve them and this pain.

When it starts to get colder, I lead her to her bedroom and lay her down, stretching out next to her.

"Please stay," she says, her eyes on mine, pleading.

"Okay," I respond simply, laying back and letting her put her head on my chest.

I try not to think about our conversation and of her blindfolded on the counter. I try not to think of the second before I'm going to put my lips on her skin, her chest rising and falling, shiny with sweat and juice from the pineapple. I smile when I remember how her chin jutted out, like she's trying to deny that she's nervous because she doesn't know what's going to happen next.

I remind myself that getting a fucking hard-on in this situation is wildly inappropriate. I just got done telling her about eight girls that I fucked after her. My heart sinks at this realization, and what that must mean to someone like Bella.

It didn't occur to me to quantify it until she asked. I hadn't given even one of those girls a second thought. A dense wave of guilt hits me then, thinking about her drunk at a club, stumbling, letting someone like me or one of my friends reach up her skirt in a dark corner or a bathroom.

It's a double standard and I realize that, but I can't completely diffuse my anger about someone else touching her skin.

I want to be past this part so bad. I want to have her all to myself, happy like I know we can be. My mind cycles through the next few weeks, and then when I get to September, I realize the major flaw in my plan.

The thought of her across the country in L.A. makes my heart sink. Flying back and forth like Emmett ... I don't know if I can do it. But how can I not? I need to be with her.

I think about her in Texas. When I had the thought last summer it was laughable, picturing her at the bar with me while girl after girl that I've fucked walks by, but now I see things differently.

I see myself cooking for her and looking over to find her in the stands at my games. I think of us in my bed, falling asleep intertwined.

I can't picture myself in L.A., but decide that if she wanted me there, I would move.

* * *

I wake up with something tickling my neck and arms. It takes me a minute to register Bella above me, staring down at me through her tent of thick brown hair. She's straddling me, and my dick is responding despite my intentions to be a gentleman.

"I've been awake for like an hour, and I couldn't let you sleep any longer. You know, you do the cutest things in your sleep," she says, smiling. I look down at the cold spot on my chest.

"Apparently you drool in your sleep," I say, eyeing the drying wet spot.

"You knew that! I drooled on you all the time last summer." Her smile fades a little, no doubt remembering last night's talk.

I sit up, leaning back against her headboard, keeping her facing me on my lap.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I say, running my fingers through her tangled hair and down her tan arms.

Her brow furrows and she looks out the window next to us, sorting out her thoughts. When her eyes return to me, she has a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Well, I guess I was just wondering if you'd had an STD test recently," she says quickly.

I pause. I never know what she's going to say next, though I probably should have told her this already. "I have. I'm clean."

She smiles brightly then. I'm still trying to catch up to her, but then she says "Good, because I don't think I'm going to want to wait very long." She says this while looking down at my boxer briefs. "Now make me breakfast, bitch."

I chase her into the kitchen, letting her beat me by a few seconds, and then pick her up and pull her legs around me, kissing behind her ears.

The sound of a throat clearing behind us makes us both jump, turning to find Rose and Emmett in her living room.

She pushes lightly on my chest so I put her down, really wishing that I had pants on. This doesn't look good.

="MsoNormal"Rose is glaring at us with her arms crossed tightly. Emmett is standing behind her looking like he wants to disappear. He reaches to touch her shoulder and she shakes it off, her eyes still fixed on us.

"What the hell, Bella?" Rose demands.

"Rose..." Bella squirms under her gaze. I feel like I'm 16 and getting busted sneaking out or something. I can't help but feel shameful, but then I realize that I'm not a teenager and I'm not doing anything wrong, so who the fuck does she think she is?

"Rose-" I start, but she cuts me off immediately.

"You do _not_ get to speak right now," she huffs out sharply. I put my hands up and back up a step to lean on the counter. I'm embarrassed and annoyed. Apparently, so is Bella, because she puts her hands on her hips and leans forward to glare back at Rose, all traces of her sheepishness gone.

"What the fuck is your problem, Rose?"

Rose doesn't respond to Bella's question, instead posing her own. "Did you ask him?" She says coldly, her face stone.

Bella freezes then. I can't see her face, but Emmett turns away and walks to the window, head in his hands. I don't know what they're talking about, but I can see this is about to get ugly.

"Ask me what?"

Rose ignores me completely, watching Bella expectantly.

"I did," Bella says quietly.

"And?" Rose raises her eyebrows smugly.

"Eight," she says, her voice clipped. When I hear the number, I mimic Emmett's position, head in hands.

"Eight," Rose nods, "and even after that, you had sex with him again? Eight? Does he even remember their names?" Rose looks at me with disgust.

I've had enough. So has Emmett, because before I can open my mouth, he's walking back towards Rose.

"Alright, babe. You made your point," he says, putting his arm around her to guide her towards the door.

She throws his arm off again, turning back to face us. I step forward to Bella, who is holding back tears.

"Fuck that, Emmett. Bella, how can you do this to yourself again?" She is at the counter, just a few feet from us, nostrils flaring and face red with anger. Emmett is shadowing her and looks ready to pounce if it gets out of hand.

Bella regains her composure, speaking confidently. "We didn't have sex, Rose." Rose looks at her disbelievingly, and then at me. I shake my head. "God, Rose, we _didn't_," she reiterates angrily.

"But you're going to."

Bella looks at her, not backing down. "You know how I feel. You saw that we were getting closer. As for my sex life, that's none of your business."

Rose snorts, her expression fierce. "Alright, B. If it's none of my business, who's going to be there to pick up the pieces when he walks away again at the end of the summer?"

Bella sighs, "You're being a little dramatic about all of this, Rose."

"Dramatic? You want dramatic?" she taunts, her voice loud.

She turns to me then, and I instinctively flinch. "Did you know that I found her passed out on our porch at 2am, with no recollection of how she got there? That I would have to go pick her up after last call where she'd have some fucking asshole groping her tits in front of the whole bar?" Bella makes a strangled noise at this, and I wonder how much she actually remembers.

"Did you even know that she had to go back to therapy for the first time since her mom died?" I glance at Bella, who has her eyes squeezed shut against the attack. "You say you love her, and I really hope that's true, Edward, but I'm sure you can understand why I'm skeptical."

I can't believe she just said that. I look at Emmett, who is looking at me apologetically, mouthing "Sorry". I should have known he would tell Rose everything. In some ways I was hoping that he would, but I really didn't want the first time that Bella finds out that I love her to be like this.

Bella's eyes open at Rose's last sentence, and she glances at me questioningly before looking back to Rose. The two of them stare each other down until Emmett moves forward one more time to pull Rose out of the room.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but Emmett beats her to it. "_Rose_. Let's go."

"But-" she starts.

"_Fucking now, Rose_," he yells.

Emmett doesn't yell, at least not in anger. I doubt she's ever seen him pissed off, because she blanches and lets him guide her out of the room, slamming the screen door behind them.

Neither of us moves for a long beat, and when I turn to Bella her mouth is hanging open and she looks confused.

"Wait, what the hell just happened? Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she apologizes sincerely, and then her shoulders slump and she looks at the ground. "I can't believe she told you all that stuff. I'm mortified." A lone tear trails down her left cheek.

I pick her up and set her on the counter, so we're eye to eye. "I'm sorry."

The words spill out of her pretty mouth quickly. "Why are you sorry? She's insane, and she's _my_ cousin, so I'm the one who is responsible here." She pauses, listening, and then sighs in relief. "Oh, thank god, here comes Jasper." I look around quickly, but then stop to listen and hear a boat moving towards the cabins.

"Twins. He just knows or something. God, I wish he would have been here for that," she moans, closing her eyes. "He's the only one who can stop her once she gets started. In fact, it probably wouldn't have happened at all if he were here."

I hate that I have to say what comes out of my mouth next, but it's the truth.

"She's not wrong, you know," I mumble quietly. "I mean, I should know all of that stuff. It's my fault."

She hops off of the counter, putting a few feet of space between us.

"Maybe, but I don't want to go back to you acting like I'm breakable, Edward. I want to move forward. You said you were sorry." She looks into my eyes, sighing. "Can't we just fast forward through all this shit and get to the part where we're happy?"

I answer her with a smile, because I was thinking exactly the same thing last night. I reach out a hand to grab hers and pull her towards me and into my arms. I keep running through the last few minutes in my head, Rose's words cutting me again and again. Guilt presses down on me, dense and unrelenting.

A few minutes later there's a knock at the door, and Jasper strides in, stopping when he sees Bella. I assume he's already been over to see his sister, judging from the look on his face.

Bella runs up to him, throwing her arms around his waist as he wraps his around her.

"Rosalie strikes again, eh?" he jokes, giving me a sad smile. "I had a bad feeling when I woke up this morning. Sorry I wasn't here, B."

She shrugs, sniffing into his shirt. "Is she okay?"

I'm surprised at Bella's concern after what Rose just did, but I know their ties run deeper than this fight.

"She's really upset. She locked herself in her bedroom. Apparently Emmett said something that pissed her off, because she won't talk to him. Alice is trying to get her to come out," he explains in his mellow way, pulling Bella back to look at her face. "Are you okay?"

She nods, letting go of Jasper to scrub her hands over her face. "It's just been an emotional couple of days," she explains, "I cried twice in two days, I think. I feel like a fucking basket case."

"What did you cry about the first time?" he asks, looking between the two of us.

I clear my throat, and Bella looks at me, a hint of a smile on her face. "We were just working out some things between us," I say, answering Jasper but watching her.

"Enough said," he chuckles, and then sobers, remembering his twin. "I'll talk to her. I don't think she's seeing this thing clearly." He kisses the top of Bella's head and moves towards the door, saluting me before sauntering away, the screen closing behind him.

Once he's gone, Bella walks back into the kitchen, her tears dry.

"Good morning," she says dryly, before peeking up at me with a sad smile.

"Good morning," I reply, bending to kiss her lips.

"Is it totally pathetic that even though everything is so fucked up, I'm still really happy?" she asks, twisting her fingers in the hem of my t-shirt.

"I've never been happier," I answer, looking at the floor and shrugging, trying to downplay the gravity of my statement.

She's silent, but when I look at her she's grinning at me and she shrugs once, biting her lip.

She sits on the counter drinking coffee while I make breakfast, telling me about her therapist and how her writing has been progressing. She tells me that she pretty much stopped writing when we were together last summer.

She's probably startled when I walk out of the room and into her bedroom, grabbing her journal and pen and bringing it back to set it on the bar. I help her off the counter and walk her around to one of the stools. Putting her coffee next to the journal, I go back to the stove to finish making breakfast.

I can feel her watching me for a minute, before I see her pick up her pen and open her journal, writing intensely until I set a plate in front of her.

* * *

Bella

When I finally go over to talk to Rose, she cries. I gave her a few hours to cool off, and now that she's taken a step back, she feels bad about her behavior.

I hug her, reassuring her that I'm not mad, and that I love her. After we're done talking, she asks me if she can talk to Edward alone. I'm uncomfortable with the prospect, but send him in anyway. They don't come out of her room for over an hour. The rest of us nurse drinks on the deck, speculating on what could be taking them so long.

I'm starting to get hungry by the time they emerge together. Rose gives him an embarrassed smile before sitting on Emmett's lap and getting wrapped in his huge arms. Edward grabs a beer and sits next to me, flashing me a big grin.

No one says anything for a long minute, which gets awkward. My natural response to the situation is to start giggling. Alice gets going then, too, and next thing I know, we're all laughing really hard, even Rose. With everything seeming back to normal, I can't wait to get Edward alone so I can ask him what they talked about.

After two more rounds of drinks the tension is gone, and Jasper is acting out Alice's encounter with an overly friendly caterpillar during their camping excursion.

When the laughter dies down, Rose stretches and looks around. "I'm tired. Edward, do you mind making dinner tonight? I think we have everything to make burgers." My eyes widen as I turn to him to see his reaction.

"I'd be happy to," he answers, getting up to poke around in the kitchen. I get up to follow him in, looking back to see Rose settle into Emmett's arms. Jasper and I exchange a disbelieving look before I walk in.

"Dude, what did you say to her? No one gets to use Rose's kitchen, not even Carlisle. Did you promise her our first born or something?" I whisper loudly, blushing when I realize I referenced our hypothetical love child.

He just smiles a secretive smile and bends to kiss my neck and lips, before turning back to the fridge and getting out ground beef for burgers.

"Hey, Em! Start the grill!" he yells.

"Aye-aye, Capitan!" Emmett bellows back.

I watch him incredulously. If he thinks he's not going to tell me how exactly he got her to go from hating his guts to being bosom buddies in less than an hour, he's got another thing coming.

"Hey B, would you make a salad?" he asks, chopping an onion. I just stand there staring at him with my mouth open.

"Seriously?" I scoff.

He glances up, taking in my expression. "What? I know you don't cook, Princess Bella, but I'm sure you can figure out how to make us a salad."

I pick up a dishtowel and snap it at him, locker-room style. "No, shithead, I'm talking about you not dishing the dirt on your conversation with Rose. Aren't you going to tell me what happened?" I question, attempting to employ puppy-dog eyes.

"I think for now that's between me and Rose. Nice try with the sad eyes, though." He laughs, turning to wash his hands.

I start getting out vegetables for a salad, grumbling "I am _not_ a princess."

I'm annoyed, but can't help grinning a little when I hear Edward snickering at me.

* * *

After dinner Rose claims exhaustion and heads to bed with Emmett right behind her. Apparently Alice didn't sleep a wink out in the great outdoors, so she and Jasper go to his cabin to chill out. Edward and I roll a joint and bring beers down to the dock. I want to lie down and look at the stars.

He lights the joint and passes it to me, pointing out the constellations he knows and telling me the mythology behind them. I decided while making the salad that I won't ask him about his conversation with Rose again, even though it's killing me to be kept in the dark. Between that and what she said about him loving me, which I haven't really had a chance to think about yet, I'm bursting with curiosity.

The joint helps distract me, and we talk aimlessly, covering everything from our favorite movies to the sports car/tiny penis theory. Edward thinks it's bullshit, so I guess that he plans to own a tiny sports car some day.

We lie there until I start yawning. Walking across the beach, we pause at the stairs leading up to my cabin.

"Do you want to sleep over?" I ask hopefully.

"Well, you know, if I sleep over tonight I'm going to sleep over tomorrow night and the next night, and then you're never going to get rid of me," he jokes.

"I'm counting on it," I respond, pulling him up the stairs.

* * *

Rose won't tell me shit about her talk with Edward, and just laughs when I get pissed off at her about it.

_Bitch._

I'm going crazy. I stick to my resolution, though, and don't say anything to Edward all week. Of course, he knows I'm annoyed, and is totally fucking with me, acting all smug. It's totally rude, but very Edward.

Too soon, it's only a few days before the Fourth of July. Rose declares a girl's day, kicking the boys completely off of the property for the day. They whine a little, but I can see boyish excitement in them as they run to the car that morning, off to do what they call "man stuff".

They drive away blasting Journey.

"Fucking dorks," Rose laughs, as we all turn around to go inside her cabin.

We start with spa treatments, and I find myself standing in Rose's bathroom, naked except for a pair of panties, covered from head to toe in a green mud mask while Rose cuts Alice's hair. It's one of Rose's secret talents. I think she missed her calling, honestly.

"Guys, this is starting to itch," I complain, wiggling around.

"It'll be totally worth it, Bella. Just sit still and shut up," Rose admonishes me, concentrating on Alice's hair.

"You suck," I say tightly, the mask drying on my face making it hard to talk.

Alice cracks up, trying to keep her head still for Rose while making faces at me in the mirror. I struggle to flick her off, making her laugh harder.

When I'm finally allowed to get in the shower, Alice hands me a loofah to scrub off the goop. Despite my discomfort, the mask did make my skin really soft, and I sit down for a trim from Rose while Alice swings her legs, sitting on the bathroom counter.

"Okay, time for girl talk. We need to do this like once a week. I love the boys, but absence does make the heart grow fonder," Alice sighs, looking wistful.

"In my experience, absence just makes the heart grow horny," Rose says, referring to living in a different state than Emmett.

Alice and I giggle.

"I can't imagine being away from Jasper that much. I would go nuts. He's so amazing," Alice sighs.

"Gross." Rose rolls her eyes.

"Hey hooker, it's not fair that I can't talk about sex with Jasper just because he's your brother. Don't forget that you can be quite _descriptive_ about you and Emmett." Alice protests.

"Fine! Continue," Rose concedes, motioning for her to go on.

"He does this thing with his fingers-" she starts, smiling slyly, only to be cut off by Rose's scream.

"Okay, I lied! I can't do it! Please stop!" she yells, shuddering.

Alice and I laugh, and then we move on to safer topics. After we're beautified, we adjourn to the deck for sunbathing and several pitchers of margaritas.

I turn to Rose after pitcher two is half gone. We're passing tipsy and nearing drunk. "So what really happened when you and Edward talked," I query, hoping she's loose enough that she'll tell me.

"Wait, they didn't tell you anything?" Alice asks, surprised.

"Not a word. Hold on, did they tell you?" I sit up, eyeing Alice like I might eat her.

"No, so quit looking at me like that. It's creepy," she chuckles, slurring a little.

I look at Rose, staring at her until she pulls her sunglasses up to look at me. "What? Jesus. You are such a spaz."

"Why did you say that he said he loved me?" I ask, relieved to finally ask the question.

"Nope. Not going there. It's between you two. Patience is a virtue, my dear." She closes the subject by lowering her sunglasses again and refilling her drink.

I pout for a few minutes, but get over it quickly.

"What are we doing for the Fourth?" I ask, realizing just how close it is. Rose's phone rings from on the table.

"I'm thinking BBQ, bonfire and fireworks. The usual," Rose says before answering her phone. "Hello?"

She pauses, sitting up in her chair abruptly. "Emmett? What's wrong?"

Alice puts her hand on my arm and we listen, frozen.

"Oh good god, Emmett. Okay, yeah. We'll be right there," she says. "Oh shit, none of us can drive, we've been drinking ... well I wasn't planning to have to come _bail you out of jail_, Emmett ... fine ... _fine. _We'll get there as soon as we can." She ends the call, turning to me and Alice.

"All three of them got arrested. They got in a fight at one of the local bars. That's all I know."

Alice starts to tear up, so I put my arm around her shoulder. "How are we going to get there?" I ask, trying to think of anyone who could give us a ride. It's the middle of the week, and we don't have many close neighbors.

Rose and I lock eyes, both slowly turning to look at Mrs. Mallory's cabin at the same time.

* * *

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	18. Little Bastard

**My betas, LouderThanSirens and Momma Bear, are rad.**

**Thank you to my twilighted jv beta, jajo, and the fabulous RoseArcadia. **

**Thank you to venti_turtl, who inspired Mrs. Mallory's driving music. xoxo!**

**Thanks to my RL people who read and don't make fun of me (too much), and much love to my RL "Smalls", who much like canon Alice, keeps me in cute clothes. Mwah. Oh and how can I forget my Sweet T? She is a motorboatin' son of a bitch, a fierce supporter of what I'm doing here, and deserves a hug for being so very cool.**

**I have to dedicate my characterization of Mrs. Mallory to my grams. She has Alzheimer's, which as some of you probably know, effing sucks. She's now at the point where she's almost completely gone, so this one is for her, who I would like to remember as a flashy dresser, shit-talker, and a terror behind the wheel.**

* * *

Lauren Mallory was probably beautiful once, but time hasn't been kind to her. Maybe it's all the squinting through the binoculars.

Her yard is littered with cutesy signs and lawn art; she has an entire village of gnomes in her flowerbeds.

We walked over fast, and the heat, margaritas and exertion make me feel twice as drunk as I did sitting on the deck. She doesn't look especially happy to see us on her doorstep.

"Hi, Mrs. Mallory," Rose starts. We decided that she sounds the least drunk, so we're making her do the talking. "I don't know if you remember us, but I'm Rosalie Hale, and this is Bella Swan and Alice Brandon," she says, gesturing towards us.

Mrs. Mallory raises an eyebrow at us and nods tersely, prompting Rose to go on.

"I was hoping we could ask you for a favor."

Next thing we know, we're in a vintage convertible, barreling down bumpy side roads with Dusty Springfield on the radio. Mrs. Mallory has a scarf tied over her bouffant and giant sunglasses covering most of her face. She's got her seat pulled up as far as it will go, and she's chain smoking.

"So, your boys got themselves into a little mischief," she yells over the wind, smiling for the first time since we showed up unannounced. Her teeth are unnaturally white against her pink lipstick.

"Yeah, they got in a fight at Stuckey's. They're morons," Rose yells back.

Mrs. Mallory laughs heartily at that, throwing her head back. Her laugh is surprisingly infectious, and I can't help but smile. She's driving really fucking fast.

"I can see Edward starting something, but Emmett and Jasper I just didn't see coming," Rose muses, turning to look at Alice.

"Hey!" I yell up to her. "Why Edward? Emmett's like seven feet tall and raging with testosterone!"

"Edward? Is he the moody one with the nice ass?" Mrs. Mallory chirps, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.

"Yes! That's him!" Alice is laughing loudly, as is Rose. "That is a totally perfect description of him, Mrs. M," she says, wiping her eyes as I glower at her. "Oh come on, Bella," she says loudly so Rose and Mrs. Mallory can hear, "you _know_ he's moody. As for the ass? It speaks for itself."

The three of them guffaw while I roll my eyes at them exaggeratedly, trying not to smile.

"Emmett's the oaf with the hots for this one, then?" Mrs. M jerks a thumb towards Rose, looking back at Alice and me for confirmation.

We nod vigorously.

"He is not an _oaf_, he's just really…large," Rose explains loudly, smirking.

"Can't blame a girl for wanting a _large_ man, if you know what I mean!" Mrs. Mallory laughs, wiggling her penciled eyebrows at Rose.

_I can't believe we're talking about penises with Mrs. Mallory._

"You must belong to Jasper, then, Smalls," she hollers back to Alice, who perks up at her new nickname, smiling. "I do love me some Jasper," Mrs. M sighs dreamily, sending us into another fit of giggles.

We pull up at the police station a moment later, and I remember why we're here. I'm not nervous, but that could be the margaritas talking.

"Thanks, Mrs. M," we chant, getting out of the car. She lights another cigarette, leaning back to appraise us standing on the sidewalk.

"Let me give you a word of advice, girls," she says, taking a drag.

"They never stop being idiots, no matter how old they get, so quit waiting," She pauses briefly, considering her words. "Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today." She puts her cigarette between her lips as she puts the car into drive, pulling it out to yell, "James Dean said that!" as she peels out, leaving us in the setting sun in front of the police station.

We stand there for a minute, marveling at what just transpired.

"Holy _shit_, she's awesome," Rose says, shading her eyes to watch the convertible speed away.

"We have to hang out with her," Alice says seriously.

I just nod, still in disbelief. People aren't always what they seem.

You'd think I would've figured that out by now.

* * *

We've known the chief of police for years and he has always had a thing for Rose, so we're able to get the boys out that night. He promises to talk to the bar owners to see if they can get the charges dropped as long as someone pays for all the damage, and agrees to drop the minor consumption charges on the condition that they stay out of the local bars until they can legally be there.

Rose asks him to call her tomorrow with the amount and she pays the bail. He goes into the back to get our hoodlums.

They file in sullenly, heads down.

We're lined up waiting for them, trying to look disapproving and sober.

Edward has a black eye that is almost swollen shut, and a fat lip. His hair is a mess. I want to jump on him right there.

Emmett and Jasper are in similar states. Emmett has a black eye as well, and it looks like Jasper got hit in the jaw; he's rubbing it and wincing. They are all covered in dirt, like they were in a schoolyard scuffle.

"Babe." Emmett says in relief when he sees Rose, walking quickly towards her.

She reaches up to touch his cheekbone softly, and when he winces, she does too.

"Oh, Em. That looks like it hurts."

They murmur to each other while Jasper walks up to Alice. She has tears in her eyes. She inspects his jaw quickly with shaky fingers, while he takes her face in his hands to kiss her lips.

Edward approaches sheepishly, stopping in front of me and shoving his hands in his pockets, scuffing the ground with his tennis shoe. I put my hands on his shoulders and get a better look at his eye, which looks pretty bad. His lip is cut, but it doesn't look like he'll need stitches.

"How did you get here? I heard you were drunk," Edward says, flinching a little when he smiles.

"Mrs. Mallory drove us, and I'm not so drunk anymore," I answer, preoccupied with checking Edward over for any other wounds.

Jasper's eyes widen. "Mallory? You're kidding, right?"

Rose laughs. "Not only did she give us a ride, but she's our new best friend."

"Wow. Just…wow." Jasper mumbles as we all move toward the doors.

Luckily, the boys were at the driving range most of the day and only made it through one beer before the brawl broke out, so Jasper drives us home. Emmett reluctantly gives up the keys because his eye is swelling and Rose won't let him get behind the wheel. He opts for the front seat, with Alice squished in the middle. Rose hops in back with Edward and me.

"What the hell happened?" Rose demands after we're all situated in the vehicle and take off.

"Some guys knew who you were, and were talking shit. Edward got in one of their faces, and it escalated from there," Emmett answers.

Rose turns to raise her eyebrows at me, in an 'I told you so' move.

_Whatever._

Jasper speaks up. "It was Tyler and Eric and the rest of those fucking idiots."

Rose and I groan simultaneously. Those guys were the bane of our existence in our early teen years. A few years older than us, they'd harass us when we'd go into town, following Rose and I around, trying to get us to come to parties with them and offering us booze from flasks tucked in their pockets. When we wouldn't play, they resorted to calling us the names that boys call girls when they get rejected by them.

"Fucking assholes," Edward grumbles, flexing and contracting his hands. There's dried blood on his knuckles.

"What did they say exactly?" I ask. Edward starts to get angry again, his breath quickening.

Jasper answers for him. "Basically the same stuff they've been saying since we were kids. Bitch. Cock tease. Whatever."

Emmett turns around to look at us. "Yeah, but what really set Edward off was some guy named Ben who said he…." he trails off, looking between Edward and I.

I cringe when the name registers in my brain. Rose looks at me, confused, then it dawns on her and she claps a hand over her mouth. I shake my head, my cheeks burning.

"What? Who's Ben?" Alice asks, turning completely around to look at us from the front seat.

"It never occurred to me that this would come back to bite me in the ass. I seriously don't know if I thought about him after that summer," I ramble, still not believing this just happened.

I had let a boy named Ben get down my pants once during a street festival behind the co-op. I actually liked him - until he told all of his friends what we had done, in graphic detail.

From then on, they called Rose frigid and me a slut. We were just kids, though. They were idiots, but so was I at that age.

"So, it's true?" Edward asks, his expression dark.

"Unfortunately, yes, but I can't _believe_ he brought that up. I was like 15," I say, kind of pissed off.

"Brought _what_ up?" Alice asks again, frustrated at being out of the loop.

"I can't believe I have to say this out loud," I groan, embarrassed.

"Oh, whatever, you pussy," Rose jumps in. "Ben Cheney fingered Bella behind the co-op during a street dance when were 15."

Alice and Jasper are chuckling and Emmett is flat out guffawing. Edward grunts his disapproval.

Rose jumps in to deal with that situation for me. "Quit brooding, Edward. As I said, she was 15 years old. It was like a different lifetime. Plus, it looks like you had your opportunity to punch the shit out of him, so what's the big deal?" He slumps a little, relaxing.

"Well, I hope you did some damage," I say, taking one of his hands in mine and checking his hands for cuts.

"No worries, B! We kicked ass!" Emmett goes in for a fist bump with Edward; both of them tense in pain when their hands collide. Rose, Alice and I giggle at that.

"Well, I hope you didn't actually hurt anyone, because if one of them presses charges …" Rose warns.

Emmett shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, babe. If anything happens, we're covered. Daddy wouldn't let anything happen to his golden boys." The last part comes out stiffly, which is strange coming from Emmett, who rarely has a bad word to say about anyone. Apparently Edward isn't the only one with father issues. Emmett just hides it better most of the time.

Back at Rose's, she gets out the first aid kit and we tend to their wounds in the kitchen while they knock back shots of whiskey for the pain.

Well, they say it's for the pain.

Alice seems upset while she's cleaning Jasper up.

"Alice, are you okay?" Edward asks her when we're finished. The rest of us are talking, and Jasper's got his arms wrapped around her from behind so he can't see her broken expression.

She squirms a little, uncomfortable. "Yeah, I just really hate physical violence," she mumbles. Jasper looks horrified.

"Shit, Alice. I am so fucking sorry. I wasn't thinking." He turns her around to face him and looks into her eyes. "We'll be back in a minute," he says, guiding Alice out of the cabin.

Rose and I do a shot with Emmett and Edward and try to decide what to have for dinner. We end up ordering from the only pizza place that delivers to us, and while we wait we make the boys shower and then argue about what movie to watch. Jasper and Alice come back to Rose's, both of their eyes red, but looking happy again.

Finally compromising with _Spaceballs_, we eat our pizza and drink beer, taking shots of whiskey every time someone says "The Schwartz". By the end, we're all buzzed and all I can think about is getting Edward alone.

When we get to my cabin, I pull him carefully into a kiss, pushing him toward the bedroom.

He stops me before we get there. "Bella, I don't think we're ready for this yet."

I feign innocence. "Ready for what, Edward? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sex. I don't think we're ready for sex," he clarifies, ending my charade.

"But, I'm ready," I insist.

He flexes his jaw, shutting his eyes. I have to restrain myself from touching his hurt lip, wanting to kiss his bruises.

"I'm not," he says resolutely.

I stiffen, taken aback. I'd assumed that he would be ready when I was. He's a guy, and not only is he a guy; he's _Edward_, known Lothario. Insecurity floods over me, and I back up a little, rejection stinging my skin.

"Oh no you don't," he says, pulling me back to him. "It's not because I don't want you, you know that, don't you? I just want to do this right. I need you to know what I'm in this for, and it's not your body, although I'm not complaining that it comes with the package."

He tips my face up, and kisses me sweetly, and gently.

"So, does that mean we can't do anything?" I ask hopefully, not forgetting Edward's talent in all areas when it comes to making me feel good.

He just smiles, pulling me into my bedroom and shutting the door behind us.

* * *

**...I know I'm a total cockblock. BUT. I assure you Prickward is mixing up lemonade and you'll get some when it's ready.**

**The chapter title refers to the last car that James Dean rode in, and the car that he died in. **

**Last but not least, I'm going on vacation next week and will not be posting a chapter. I know! I'm sorry! It's not you, it's me. I will be back the following week and back to my usual posting schedule, and I'll also be tan (I hope) and rested (definitely). xoxo!**


	19. One More Time, With Feeling

**I'm back, I'm refreshed, and I'm ready to party. Shots of Patron, anyone?**

**So many thanks to LouderThanSirens and Momma Bear for being kick-ass betas.**

**Thanks to my twilighted junior validation beta jajo and her partner in crime RoseArcadia.**

**Thank you to every one of you who talked to me about your alzheimer's experiences, and those who just dropped me a note. Once again I'm reminded that the people in this community are of stellar character.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own, I just like to make Lauren Mallory fun.**

* * *

A few mornings after our brush with the law, Rose, Alice and I take the boat over to Mrs. Mallory's after breakfast, tying it up to her dock, and walking up the long flight of stairs to her cabin. She's on the deck smoking, binoculars next to her on a small table.

"Mrs. M!" we chime when she comes into view.

"Hello, girls," she trills, inviting us to sit with her. Her view is wonderful, and I'm amazed at how much of our daily activities she must be able to see.

She hustles inside, her polyester pants swishing.

She comes back with a bottle of Veuve, popping off the cork and pouring four glasses.

"To summer!" she toasts, and we clink glasses and drink.

Settling back into her chair, she asks, "So, you busted your fellas out of the clink, eh?"

We nod, laughing.

"Who did they get in the fight with?" she asks curiously.

Rose fills her in on the details and Mrs. M groans, her reaction similar to ours yesterday. "Those damn kids are such a pain in my ass. They used to steal my lawn gnomes when they were drunk, so I bought a shotgun and started fertilizing with manure!" She laughs her infectious laugh.

We spend a few hours with her. She tells us about her deceased husband and how they retired here together, but he passed away just months after they moved. She opted to stay, but her life here is often lonely. She doesn't have kids and she is an only child, so she doesn't have many surviving family members.

Despite all this, she's not looking for pity, reassuring us that she loves living here and that our antics keep her entertained all summer.

Rose asks her why she's always so mean to Jasper, and she thinks for a second. "I guess it's because I have an old-lady crush on him. It's like throwing rocks at someone on the playground, but I'm eighty, so I think the rock-throwing would be frowned upon."

I love this woman.

We promise to come back soon, and invite her to watch fireworks with us on the Fourth of July.

"Hey, girls!" she hollers at us as we descend the steps. "Next time bring those hoodlums with you! I've got a few classic cars in the garage that they might want to take a look at." She winks and walks back inside.

* * *

When we get back, Emmett and Edward are helping Jasper clean out our boathouse, something he promised Carlisle and Charlie he would do this summer. They're unearthing broken boat motors and ancient, rusted tools, laying them out in the sun. With all of them in jeans and boots and work gloves, it looks like one of the old black and white photos that we have in our photo albums upstairs.

Jasper is playing doo-wop from the speakers. Mrs. M would approve.

Edward's wife beater is clinging to him, dirt smearing his arms. I run up to him when we get off the boat, jumping in his arms. He kisses me hard, pressing me against his chest. My white t-shirt is going to be ruined and I don't care even a little bit.

"Come upstairs with me," I whisper into his ear.

"I promised Jasper I would help him finish this," he whispers back, his hand resting on the back of my neck. "Plus, I'm all dirty."

"I like you dirty," I reply, smiling up at him. His eye still a little swollen but the bruise is starting to fade. He puts me down, grinning, and smacks my ass when I walk away.

Rose, Alice, and I plot on the way upstairs, and return in bikinis and sunglasses with ice-cold beers for us and the boys. We aim our deck chairs towards them so we can watch them work, and spend the day enjoying the show. So does Mrs. M, who raises her glass to us when we wave at her, her binoculars in place.

* * *

Everything is good. Really good, even, but the Fourth of July looms in front of me, the date undeniably significant.

Edward doesn't say anything about it specifically, but I know he's edgy about it too. Every time someone brings it up he stiffens, even though I can tell he's trying to act normal. The state of mind that I existed in a few weeks ago - shit, even a few days ago - seems to have been replaced with tension and insecurity.

I can't figure out if it's because we've been messing around or what. Sex or not, we're definitely getting more and more intimate. I feel good during and after we're together, but the second he leaves the room I get a sickening feeling in my stomach that feels all too familiar. It sticks around now, abating only when he's getting me off. It's a fucked up cycle that I can't begin to stop. Or maybe I could stop it, but actually voicing the words to him would make it real, and I don't want it to be.

The whole family will be here for the holiday. I can't wait to see Carlisle and Esme again, and of course Charlie, but I wish I had more time. I wake up really early the morning of the fourth with a lump in my throat. It's still dark out.

Edward slept over again, sneaking in after Charlie went to bed. It seems like overkill to me, but Edward insisted, wanting to get back in my dad's good graces.

Knowing Charlie that could take a few years.

He got here yesterday, but he watches the space between us, his eyes glued to Edward's hand in mine, or his arm around my shoulder. I told my dad over the phone that we were...trying to do whatever the hell we're doing, but it seems that hearing it and seeing it are two completely different things.

Charlie is positively radiating disapproval, and the story about the arrest doesn't help. I make a mental note to talk to him about it today before rolling over to look at Edward's face on the pillow next to me.

A lot of the time while he sleeps, he frowns and rocks back and forth like he's concentrating really hard on something, resembling a frustrated little kid. It's rare that the grimace fades and he sleeps peacefully. I asked him once last summer what he dreams about, but he made a joke out of it, referencing puppies and rainbows.

I watch him now, his lips pursing and his eyes moving behind his lids. I've never wanted to be in someone's head so much. This day...this date...is really fucking with me. I need more than anything to feel like we're connected, and not just by his tongue on my clit, although that is really nice...

I watch him for almost an hour, memorizing the tiny freckles sprinkled across his nose, and the tiny lines by his eyes from smiling. He has a small white scar above his eyebrow, and his stubble is growing in evenly.

I hear Charlie get up. I listen to him shuffle around, and a motor starts a few minutes later. He must be going fishing.

When Edward finally opens his eyes he jumps back, startled. I think he must have been surprised to find me inches away from his face, staring intently at him. He inhales sharply, his eyes widening until he gets his bearings.

"You scared the shit out of me," he breathes, his body relaxing. He flings his arm over my waist, pulling me into his chest.

"Sorry. I was just watching you and thinking," I mumble against his skin.

The tone of my voice must alarm him, because he backs up quickly and takes in my expression.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking really sad, and a little fearful. I sigh, rolling on to my back to stare at the ceiling. His warm palm rests on my stomach.

I swallow hard. "It's the fourth of July," I whisper, still staring at the white expanse above me.

He sighs, shifting so he's propped up on one elbow. I turn my face slightly to look at him. His expression is wary.

"I know," he says slowly. "What...I don't know what to say," he admits.

"I think I'm just afraid that...all this is going to go away. The last week has been so good, but I keep feeling...like...fuck," I stutter.

I curse my inability to just say what the hell I mean. I hate petty misunderstandings and there is no reason that we should continue any of this without being completely honest and on the same page.

I am going to suck it the fuck up. Like, now.

I sit up and turn to face him, crossing my legs. He mirrors my position, still seeming cautious.

"Every time we fuck around, when you leave the room I feel like shit. I'm thinking it may be some residual abandonment crap, which is valid, but I just need you to know, because it's messing with me," I blurt, the words tumbling out of my mouth quickly. He looks down, blinking, but doesn't respond.

"I need to know where this is going to end up. I know that's almost, like, impossible for you to know, but I need you to tell me what you want."

He opens his mouth to say words that I've already heard, so I put my finger to his lips. "I know you want me. I know. But what about when summer's over? What then? Are you going to go back to your life and I'll go back to mine?" After I get the hard questions out, I lean back a little, watching his reaction.

His bright smile throws me off and I frown, not getting it.

"I want us to be together," he says quietly, moving closer so our knees are touching and he can put his hands on my thighs. "I want you to move to Texas."

"What?" I ask quickly, my body tensing.

"I want you to move to Texas," he repeats firmly.

I am suddenly torn in opposite directions, two halves of my brain screaming at each other. I hop off the bed, pacing back and forth a few times before stopping and taking a deep breath. I open my mouth, but I can't form a sentence yet.

Holding a finger up for him to wait, I close my eyes, running my fingers through my tangled hair.

I'm enraged at the implication that my life in LA isn't important enough for him to consider moving for me, but my inner romantic is swooning. The two are not meeting in the middle, and my emotions are swinging wildly back and forth.

I look at him. He hasn't moved at all, his expression is careful again.

"You just expect me to move? Just like that. To a different state." I'm incredulous.

"Well, no. I know we may need more time-"

I interrupt, "Did you even consider moving, or is it just me who has to give everything up?" I snap, moving to pace again. Before I can, he reaches forward and grabs my wrist, pulling me back to face him.

"Let me finish," he says softly "I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing with school and football...I have some decisions to make that will affect where I end up, but I know I can't leave this season. I could commute to see you every week like Emmett does, but I want to live with you," he says, swallowing audibly. He moves closer, one hand on my neck. I feel tears forming in my eyes, but don't blink them away.

He whispers now, our faces inches apart. "I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to fall asleep with you every night. I want to make you happy. That's what I want."

I don't make any move towards him. All I can do is breathe.

"I need to think about it," I say, trying not to show my trepidation. His answering grin is wide, and he nods, understanding, kissing me with his smiling mouth.

I feel a few more broken parts of me heal together, hopeful. He pulls me onto the bed and he holds me until Charlie gets back from fishing.

I roll out of bed reluctantly when I hear him banging around in the kitchen, knowing that it's a subtle hint that my dad thinks it's time for me to get up.

"I'm going to brush my teeth. You?" I ask, my hand on the doorknob. He's out of bed when I look back at him.

"Yeah... I'm going out the window. Your dad scares the shit out of me." he says, sliding the screen up.

"Are you serious? That's so, like...a fucking movie," I laugh, walking over to him. "I like it, though. Sneaking around is hot," I giggle when he grabs my ass and pulls me in for a kiss, our lips closed against the morning breath.

"I'll see you later, but I thought maybe you would want to spend the morning with your dad," he says, running his fingers over my face.

"I do. Thanks. I'll see you later." I watch him climb easily out of the window, looking back to smirk at me before jogging into the woods.

I lower the screen, leaving the bedroom to brush my teeth, pee and make some coffee. Charlie is frying fish in the kitchen, his favorite breakfast. He looks me over suspiciously.

"Morning," he grumbles, looking back at the pan in front of him.

I walk around the counter and put an arm around his waist in a half-hug, forcing my way under his arm so it's over my shoulder. He softens, kissing my head and nodding towards the coffee.

I sit across from him while he cooks, asking him questions about work and Washington. His answers are short and distracted. I can tell there's something he's not saying.

It doesn't take him long to come out with it. "So what's up with you and this Edward guy?" he grunts, looking stern.

"Well, as I told you, we're trying to work some stuff out," I explain, looking him in the eye.

"Even after...?" he fades off, not needing to finish the question.

"Even after," I state.

He rubs his jaw, his beard starting to grow in. He doesn't like to shave when he's at the lake; he says it's too much work. "Listen, kid, I'm not going to try to pretend that I understand what happened, but I just want you to know that he probably doesn't deserve you."

I'm temped to roll my eyes, but instead I just smile at him.

"Oh, and what happened to Mike?" he asks too casually.

"We're just friends, dad." This time I do roll my eyes, but I know my face is red.

"Good. Too many damn tattoos on that kid," he states, shaking his head.

I laugh, but I'm not done talking about Edward. "So...can you try to be nice to him?"

Charlie looks affronted. "I'm nice," he scoffs quietly.

"Dude. Dad," I say seriously, "you hardly speak to him. He said hello yesterday and you grunted at him," I reason. My tone is light and joking, but his face still flushes.

"Alright," he grumbles, frowning.

I smile a big cheesy grin at him until he looks at me. He tries to look stern, but when he turns around to get a plate out of the cupboard I can see that he's hiding a smile.

With Charlie I don't need to reiterate the point. He'll do his best to be nice from now on.

I move on to the Fourth of July plans, and what we're going to do for the rest of his stay. I follow him around all morning while he fixes random things around the cabin, oiling the squeaky door hinges and checking the smoke detectors.

He asks me about the fishing while he's on the kitchen floor tinkering with a leaky pipe under the sink. I have to remind him that I only fish with him, but suggest that we go while he's here.

He agrees happily and we're quiet for a minute. He sits up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"You should bring Edward out with us when we go," he says, looking up at where I'm sitting on a stool, swinging my legs. The motion slows for a moment while I process this, and then I give him another big smile.

"Thanks, Pops."

I really miss being around him. We used to talk like this all the time in the afternoon when I was young. After my mom died, it was the time of day that both of us seemed to cope the best. When the light started to fade, the fact that we were on our own became that much more apparent.

My mom was a great cook. The kitchen seemed empty and sad after she died, so even though I knew how to make a few things, I did everything to avoid being in the kitchen. After a few months of eating take-out every night, Charlie started learning to cook himself. My palette is well acquainted with charred meatloaf and lumpy alfredo sauce. There was a fish stew incident that I can't bear to mention.

He did the best he could though, and got pretty good over the years.

We've healed so well, and stuck together through it all, that sometimes I forget about how bad it was. Without Rose, Jasper, Carlisle, and this place, my life could have gone a very different direction.

* * *

Alice, Rose and I lay on the beach while the boys collect wood for the bonfire tonight; we can hear them laughing and yelling in the woods.

Carlisle and Esme show up after lunch, walking across the beach holding hands. We jump up when we see them and run over to say hello. Esme hugs me tightly, and I find myself wondering what Edward has told her about the last few weeks.

Judging from the teary smile she gives me, they've been talking.

Rose tells the two of them about the plan for tonight, and they're both surprised to hear that Mrs. Mallory will be making an appearance.

"I just didn't see that one coming," Carlisle muses, looking over at her cabin as Jasper comes out of the woods with an arm full of wood. He puts the logs on the pile and walks over, pausing to kiss Esme on the cheek, throwing his arm over Carlisle's shoulder.

Carlisle grins at him, but sobers when he notices the bruises on Jasper's face.

"What happened, J?" He asks, backing up to get a better look at him.

"It's not a big deal, dad, we just got in a little fight with some of the locals," Jasper mumbles, his usual smooth demeanor gone in the presence of his dad.

"Yeah, but the bar's not pressing charges..." Rose starts, and then fades off, realizing what she just said. Jasper glares at her and she makes an apologetic face.

"The bar?" Carlisle's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he turns to look coolly at Jasper. "Did I miss a few birthdays or something, Jasper? Last time I checked you couldn't get into a bar." He watches him closely; J knows he's busted.

Edward and Emmett walk out of the woods, drop more wood onto the pile and walk over, smiling at Esme. It takes both of them a moment to register the look on her face, but the second they do they their expressions morph into those of little boys in trouble. They scan all of us, quickly knowing that the jig is up.

Emmett walks towards Esme "Mom, I'm so sorry, but you know I drink, and Rose talked the cops out of giving us minors-"

"You got arrested?" Esme gasps, glaring at the two of them. She softens when Emmett gets closer, though, reaching to turn his head so she can see his cheek. Edward walks up and she gives him the same treatment, shaking her head.

Charlie comes back from fishing then, and is all too happy to stand and look disapprovingly at the boys while Carlisle and Esme get the whole story.

Charlie and Carlisle stand next to each other with their arms crossed while Esme sits, her eyes on her sons. They very rarely get parental on us, but we do sometimes push the envelope enough to warrant a nice, long lecture. This is looking to be one of those times.

Edward and Emmett squirm under Esme's gaze. For some reason, this makes me really miss my mom. I would give anything to have her here, even for this.

When Jasper gets to the part of the story where we were too drunk to drive, I look apologetically at Charlie, who looks disapproving but not angry. He's had a day to deal with this news, so I think he's probably just happy that we were smart enough to find a ride and not get behind the wheel.

Everyone is silent after Jasper's done telling the tale. Mercifully, he leaves out the sordid details about the incident with Ben behind the co-op.

"Now, I don't condone physical violence, but..." Charlie looks at Edward, "I can't be too angry about you defending my daughter's honor, and my niece's for that matter, especially against those idiots." Charlie smiles at me and then Rose, who beams back at him, but his expression turns stern again. "That said, you know the rules: drink responsibly, and if you're drunk, stay the hell away from my boat."

I suppress a smile. It always comes back to fishing with Charlie. We nod and look appropriately apologetic until his stern look starts to soften.

Esme pulls Edward and Emmett aside, though, speaking to them more firmly than Charlie and Carlisle did.

Rose steps between our dads, linking her arms through theirs, leading them towards the steps. She needs some heavy lifting done upstairs, and I hear them both groan when she suggests that they give her a hand.

Jasper grabs Alice's hand and they follow.

I sit across the beach alone, waiting for Esme to be done talking to the boys. When they walk back towards me, Esme's eyes are a little red, and she sidles up next to me, putting her arm around my shoulder.

"Would you mind helping me make some food for tonight, Bella?" she asks, smiling brightly at me despite the fact that she looks like she's been crying.

I nod, smiling, turning around to give Edward a look as we start down the beach.

"Moooom!" he whines. Esme and I glance at each other, snickering.

"Finish up down here and then see what else Carlisle needs you to do!" she shouts back.

Rose has really relaxed her stance on food preparation this summer, not minding when Esme offers to bring appetizers for tonight. It's a testament to how much she really loves Emmett, I think.

In her huge kitchen, Esme pulls out the ingredients for artichoke dip while I get out the bowls and dishes that she gestures to.

I want to ask her if she's okay, her eyes still red, but I wait for her to say something, not wanting to pry.

When we're well into assembling the dip, she finally asks me.

"So, Bella," she glances at me before turning back to the counter, "how are things going with you and Edward?"

I take a breath, a small smile on my face. "Pretty good. I mean, we're working out some things..."

"Are you going to move to Texas?" she asks quickly, failing to hide her excitement.

I laugh, startled. "Honestly, he just brought it up this morning...so I'm not sure yet."

She puts down the bowl in her hands, turning to face me. She sighs and looks past me for a second, seeming like she's trying to come to a decision.

"This is going to sound stupid, and I'm probably crossing about a thousand lines here, but I want you to know how great he is."

I nod in agreement.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm his mother and I have to think that, but what I mean is that he's great now. It hasn't always been like this, Bella. I'm sure you're far too aware of that." She sighs again, frowning. "I'm sure you've heard things about their father."

"Very little," I admit cautiously. My stomach is uneasy.

She pauses, glancing at my face, and then looks away. "He really wasn't there much, which is good, being that he's, for lack of a better word, an asshole...sorry," she says, giving me a small smile. I shrug and smile back at her. "But they missed out on a lot. I think the worst thing was watching them look at other families..." She swallows hard, not able to finish that thought. "They realized that their father wasn't 'normal' at some point, and Edward started acting out, which got worse as he got older; staying out all night, drinking...fighting. It got better when he got into football, but even though that straightened him out, he's always seemed unfulfilled," she pauses, wiping her eyes "Emmett spent most of his time looking out for Edward. Emmett's always been a little...sunnier...than Edward." She laughs at that. I smile; it's true.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't just lay all this on you, but you should know that I've never seen him like this. I hope you'll give him a chance to show you how different he is. That's why I was upset today. He's been so good, so the fighting really got to me."

She stops, watching for my reaction. I fidget, taking it all in.

"Thank you," I say finally. I don't know what else to say.

She pulls me into another tight embrace, wiping tears away again when we break away from each other.

"Look at me! I'm a mess!" she laughs, dabbing at the mascara under her eyes.

She takes a minute to collect herself, turning back to the food spread over the counter.

"Did you know that you're the only girl that he's dated that I've met?"

I frown, "It doesn't seem like he did a lot of dating, per se."

I'm surprised that she laughs. "True, but Bella, not only are you the only girl I've met, but you're really the only girl that he's ever talked about." She glances at me, where I'm looking down at the mess in front of me. "He calls me for advice now. He calls to ask what he should cook you for dinner. He calls when he does something idiotic and needs to know how to make it up to you. It's...a first."

She looks so happy that it's my turn to get choked up.

"Okay enough of this. Now? I want to have real girl talk." She grabs a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and pours us each a glass, allowing me time to get myself together.

"So, tell me everything about your uncle. I'm dying to get some blackmail stories," she gushes, leaning forward to clink my glass before letting me begin.

Edward walks in an hour later, leaning in the doorway to watch Esme and I clean up the mess we made.

"Come here, beautiful boy!" she calls, and he walks to her, rolling his eyes, but clearly loving her attention. She complains that he needs a haircut, and asks whether he's taking the supplements his doctor recommend...and a whole bunch of other mom stuff that makes my heart hurt. He dwarfs her when she wraps her arms around his waist.

Before she leaves to get ready to go over to Rose's, she gives me a huge smile, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

"I just love her, Edward," she says, leaving us in the kitchen.

I shake my head, looking at the door she walked out of. "She's so amazing."

"I know," he says, studying my face. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just nice to have a mom around, I guess." I avoid his eyes, feeling exposed.

He steps forward and lifts my arms up around his neck, settling his hands around my waist. "I'm sorry."

I'm confused. "For what?"

"About your mom," he looks at the floor, his voice low.

I purse my lips, taking a deep breath. He meets my eyes. "Thanks." I mean it, and when I kiss him, I mean that too.

Esme leaves a few minutes later, asking us to bring a few things when we walk over. I lay on his bed while he showers. I run through the day in my head, wishing I could write it down before I forget anything.

A thought occurs to me and I reach above me, pulling the lumpy green scarf out from under one of the pillows. I rub the soft yarn on my cheek, happy that he really does sleep with it under his pillow, even though he hasn't been sleeping here lately.

When I look up he's standing in the doorway, his hands on the door frame above him. He's shirtless and his jeans hang low on his hips. He's watching me, his expression soft, almost sad.

It's my turn to ask what's wrong. "Are you okay?"

He shrugs, walking over and standing next to the side of the bed that I'm laying on. I press one palm to his flat stomach and slide my fingers down, hooking them in the waistband of his boxer briefs. His muscles tighten, and his breath quickens. He bites his lower lip, looking down at me with dark eyes.

I slide the backs of my fingers from one hipbone to the other, brushing them against the smooth head of his cock, watching him tense and relax. I'm over games, but I don't mind teasing him. He's the one who wants to wait, and while he's probably right in his reasoning, I think I'm going to enjoy making it a little...harder for him.

I drop my hand and he exhales a breath while I get up on my knees facing him and press my lips to his. He grabs my waist roughly, pulling me closer to press against his bare chest, running hands up my back under my shirt.

He's warm and hard, and I could stay here, but he pulls back, reaching behind me to grab the scarf, looping it around my neck. He runs a finger down my cheek and into the yarn, rubbing it between his fingers. I know I'll keep it on for the rest of the night.

We grab the food Esme left and walk to Rose's. My heart is light, and I've never seen a more beautiful sunset.

* * *

**Lemons coming! Can you feel it?**


	20. Finding Purchase

Bella

Mrs. Mallory is there when we get to Rose's, sipping a cocktail and flirting with every man in the room. She's captivating in a loud floral print top and her usual polyester pants, her hair is piled high on her head, and her lips are bright with lipstick.

I hug her in greeting and she reaches out a hand to Edward, smiling slyly when he kisses it. When he takes her glass to refill it, she ogles his ass as he walks away, giving me a look of approval while fanning herself with her hand.

Dinner is casual and very, very loud. Everyone talks over one another and clinks glasses.

I revel in it, the mellow music and my friends and family together. At times everything moves in slow motion and I feel removed from the situation, an observer content to watch the interactions. I find myself smiling widely at each of them.

I'm in love with this moment. I want to keep it somewhere to look at when real life is shitty, to remember that it won't always be that way; to remember that it will get better.

The only time we quiet down is when Mrs. Mallory tells us tales of her youth. It's like she's describing scenes from _American Graffiti_. She is undoubtedly the guest of honor; Rose seated her at the head of the table, and we hang on her every word. By the time she starts talking classic cars towards the end of dinner, she's got every man in the room wrapped around her finger.

"Wait. Holy shit. You've actually got a '57 Chevy Bel-Air? Here?" Jasper asks, leaning back and letting out a low whistle.

"I sure do, Jazzy," she laughs, grabbing her glass and cigarettes and standing up. "Smalls, come outside with me while I smoke!" Alice grins at her nickname, getting up to follow her, and mouthing "Jazzy?" at Jasper. He raises his eyebrows, mouthing back "Smalls?" She flicks him off, smiling, and walks out the screen door.

Carlisle drives Mrs. M home before we walk down to the bonfire to watch fireworks. We beg her to stay, but insists that she has to get home, promising to watch the show from her deck, "binoculars in hand". We laugh. The boys promise to come over the next day to talk cars and check out her collection. She says that if they give the Bel-Air a tune-up they can take it out for a spin.

Jasper and Edward each give her a kiss on the cheek as Carlisle walks her out. Emmett grabs her and dances her towards the car door in an exaggerated tango. She laughs and lets out a loud whoop as the car pulls out.

I find myself, for the second time, watching in awe as Mrs. M leaves. Girl knows how to make an exit.

We watch the fireworks from the bonfire; the adults still up on the deck. It's just the six of us again, paired off. I don't remember what is said, but I remember laughing a lot, and feeling warm with affection for my family and friends.

* * *

A few days later, Jasper proposes to Alice on their second camping trip to the island. She says yes, of course.

The ring is beautiful; ornate, yet not fussy, like her… like their relationship.

Rose reaches over to hold Carlisle's hand while they listen as Alice tells the story of how he got down on one knee, and I see the twinge of sadness between them. I know it's because their mother can't be here to hear this conversation, and see Jasper this happy.

When they've told us the details, Jasper gets up and pulls Rose into a hug, understanding. She cries quietly into his shoulder as he strokes her hair, his eyes shut against his own tears. Carlisle watches them, choked up while Esme rubs his back.

Alice watches Carlisle for a second before getting up and walking towards him with her arms open. He rises, embracing and congratulating her. Jasper and Rose let each other go but he keeps his arm over her shoulder, looking at all of our sad faces.

"Hey! This is a celebration, so bust out the fucking champagne!" he orders, wiping at his eyes. We all relax; getting up to hug everyone while Esme gets the bubbly.

Alice puts her parents on speakerphone for the toast, and afterwards Carlisle and her dad talk for a while.

We pile into the boat to go to see Mrs. M and give her the good news. Champagne flows, and I'm tipsy by noon.

We spend the day on the beach and the boat.

I feel a slight separation between Edward and me. It's probably undetectable to anyone else, in fact it may exist only in my own head, but things have been a little strange since the Texas conversation. We're out of sync. There's a delay; static between our words and expressions that I can't quite decipher. I stuff my insecurities and try to act normal instead of dealing with it.

Until I can't anymore.

The two of us take a walk after dinner. The long day of drinking makes me bold.

"So, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love me?"

He stops walking and turns to face the water, not answering.

I get a wave of déjà vu that leaves me feeling sick.

I open my mouth, but he speaks first. "Are you going to move in with me?" I can't help but notice that he doesn't answer my question.

"I don't know…" His face falls further. "I mean, I need time to work everything out with school, and to pack…I've never even been to Texas."

He nods slowly, his eyes still on the lake.

"I don't get it, though, is this some sort of ultimatum? Move in with you or you…don't love me?" I start to get agitated as I work through the thought in my head. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out because I'm being honest, and don't be a prick to keep yourself from feeling vulnerable." He closes his eyes, his jaw flexing.

When he turns to look at me, he's got a defiant look on his face. "Fine. I'm fucking pissed that you didn't just say you would move in with me."

I look him over, waiting for more, but then I realize that it's that simple. He's afraid too. Afraid that I won't say yes, and that I don't feel the same way that he does, that he fucked up too bad to go back.

"So, do you?"

"What?"

"Love me?"

He's quiet for a second, neither of us moving, hardly breathing.

"I do."

I smile and exhale a shaky breath. "Do what?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," I answer quickly, like the words were on the tip of my tongue. I want to kiss him, to feel what those words mean, but I don't move. I make my decision right then. "I'm going to come visit you as much as I can. I'll move over Christmas break."

His response is to tackle me back on the beach, putting one of his legs between mine and holding himself over me. The sand is still warm from the sun.

"I love you," he whispers, pressing his lips to mine. I feel his restraint. I feel his want. I decide that tonight's the night.

* * *

Edward

Jasper looks so fucking happy. God, I want that so bad.

I'm not sure what I expected. I guess I thought she would say yes right away, like it plays out in movies. Simple.

Nothing is simple with her, though.

Fuck, not that that's a bad thing. I just want things the way I want them. I want her.

When I try to pull away, she calls me on it, putting me in my place so fast that it reinforces why this thing between us works. I'm not good at sacrificing, but I'm going to learn how to put her first. I have to.

So because I love her, I tell her so.

When she says she'll move for me, everything stops. All the bad is gone, and all that's left is the two of us, together, and all I can think about is how bad I want to take off her clothes.

I can't help it.

By the time we get upstairs, Charlie's in bed and the cabin is quiet and dark. I feel like I'm sixteen creeping into her room, her pulling me by my hand. When we get inside she closes the door quietly behind her, leaning back against it. She doesn't turn on the light, and when my eyes adjust I can see her in the moonlight.

She pushes me back on the bed before I can touch her, pulling down the straps of her dress one at a time.

"I'm ready now," she whispers, letting the dress fall. She's fucking beautiful.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, watching her unclasp her bra and slide her panties down her hips, before reaching down to pull my shirt over my head. I let her undress me slowly, until it's just us, smooth skin tan in the moonlight.

She puts one knee on the bed and I grab her hips, steadying her as she straddles me. I can see we're going to skip foreplay. Apparently this last month has been enough.

"I'm ready," she whispers again, her lips pressed to my ear. The bed shifts, the frame creaking loudly in the silent room. We both freeze, listening for any sign that we woke Charlie up.

"Shhhh…" she whispers, grabbing me and aligning us, her movements cautious and restrained, her anticipation showing through her shaking hands and shallow breath.

She lowers herself just a little, the bed creaking again, and stops there, the only sound the two of us breathing. I flex my hands on her hips, wanting to pull her down, but letting her control the pace. She rocks her hips, making me moan, which she stifles by kissing me hard, both of us shaking.

Then it's slow and painfully good; her moving on me, her lips on mine against my neck, whispering "Shhhh…" while I try to fight the urge to moan her name. I grip her hips tightly, our chests pressed together. When she gets closer, I'm the one to quiet her, steadying her and keeping her pace while she shakes. She bites my shoulder hard, her nails digging into my back. I don't last long after that, and she kisses me until I'm done, biting my lower lip lightly when I start to moan.

I don't want to unwrap myself from her. I don't want to be anywhere else.

I tell her I love her again.

We fall asleep, skin on skin, the breeze drifting through the window across us.

* * *

Everything is so fucking good after that. Charlie, Bella and I go fishing. We have big dinners and movie nights. Our parents leave a few days later, warning us again to stay out of the bars. Charlie shakes my hand before he leaves for the airport, meeting my eyes and giving me a slight smile and a nod.

I'll take it.

Mrs. M really does have a fucking Bel-Air. Emmett, J and I change the oil, replace the fluids and get it running. We suggest a bikini car wash to get it cleaned up, but Mrs. M insists that we do it instead.

Next thing you know, the girls are lounging on the deck watching the three of us spray each other with the hose and soap up the red car.

"I feel like a piece of meat!" Emmett yells while the girls hoot and clap when Jasper dumps the bucket of soapy water over his head.

"Less talking, more washing, Emmett!" Rose hollers back, making us laugh.

After we wash, wax and buff the car Emmett, J and I take Mrs. M on a ride. We let Emmett drive, warning him to take it easy, but Mrs. M keeps urging him to go faster, letting out loud whoops and throwing her hands up.

We spend a lot of time in her garage that week, helping her get it cleaned out and tuning up classic car after classic car. We're in fucking heaven.

I watch Bella all the time, and every night we fall asleep pressed together, panting.

I want her on me every second of every day, and if her eagerness to touch me is any indication, she feels the same.

She's on her knees in front of me in the shower, my hand gripping the shower bar so hard it hurts.

I'm on my knees with my mouth on her while she sits on the bed watching me between her thighs, her stomach flexing and her quiet moans urging me on.

I'm bending her over the bathroom sink, watching her face in the mirror while I make her come.

I can't imagine not doing this every day. Not just sex, but everything.

Emmett and I start training hard, running every day and lifting weights. It feels good, but it reminds me that time is running out.

I start making plans. I find out when she wants to come out, and I buy her a plane ticket for the end of September. I buy myself one for October. I make sure that her laptop has Skype and a video camera. I make her a playlist of our favorite songs that we listen to in the mornings in her living room. I steal a pair of her panties. I make her wear my t-shirts and don't wash them before I put them on. I cook for her every day. I watch her write. I tell her I love her all the time. I help her start to fill out paperwork for her school transfer. I look into getting a new apartment so we can have our own space when she moves.

Most of all, I try to remember every second with her. The weeks go too fast. Emmett and I coordinate our flights out so we can all drive together to the airport.

She unwinds the green scarf from around her neck, reaching up to put it around mine, her bottom lip trembling.

Jasper and Alice stand off to the side, watching Rose, Emmett, Bella and I say our goodbyes.

"I'm going to miss you," she chokes out, touching my face.

I hate to cry, but when she brushes back a tear with her fingers, I don't feel embarrassed.

"I'll call you when I get in," I promise.

"I'll be waiting."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

One last kiss, our arms gripping each other desperately. and I watch her walk away. Emmett and I stand next to each other, both of us waiting until they're out of sight to turn and walk to our gate. We don't talk much on the flight, but have a few drinks, clinking our glasses of Jameson together and ignoring the flirting of the flight attendants.

It's late when we get home, but I call Bella. It goes straight to voicemail. I leave her a message and collapse on my bed, passing out the second my head hits the pillow, scarf still wound around my neck.


	21. Flip the Script

**Hello!**

**I love you guys. I'm cereal. **

**You're gonna have to stick with me here. HEA is on the horizon. Trust.**

**Thanks to Momma Bear and LouderThanSirens for putting up with me.**

**Thanks to stephk0525 for putting up with me.**

**Thanks to jajo and RoseArcadia for putting up with me.**

**Thanks to my twitter beeches who make all of this ish fun.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

My mom always said that the only thing that we can control in life is ourselves. Pretty much everything else is out of our hands.

There are times when life steamrolls over you, leaving you wondering what the fuck just happened, and how you got here.

This is one of those times.

* * *

I hate flying. I'm claustrophobic, and there's something about breathing dry, recycled air that makes my throat want to close.

Rose gives me a Valium in the airport, which helps with the anxiety but whacks me out for the rest of the day. She usually takes one as well but opts out, saying she isn't feeling well.

I pass out shortly after we get home from the airport, so tired that I don't bother to unpack or even brush my teeth.

I wake up late the next morning to a sweet voicemail from Edward. He doesn't answer when I call him back, so I figure he's at the gym or at practice.

Before we left the lake we discussed the fact that we aren't always going to communicate well. With the time difference, busy schedules, his jealousy and my paranoia, it's inevitable, so we came up with a plan.

We have a "safe word" for when one of us is feeling neglected and/or just really needs to talk. It sounded stupid at first, but Rose and Emmett assured us that it's necessary. Rose pointed out the fact that I have a very active imagination, and that one missed phone call could turn into a real fight if I get carried away.

She's right, of course.

I get a twinge of sadness when I get in the shower alone, so I try to focus on conjuring up his voice in the message. He sounded tired, and I could tell he was in bed, his words slightly muffled by a pillow.

I'm really going to miss waking up with him.

Him in my bed.

Him in my shower.

_In my shower. Fuck._

_I probably need to buy a vibrator._

I get out of the shower feeling squeaky clean and totally unsatisfied. Unfortunately, this may be a feeling I need to get used to.

I'm contemplating the few clean clothes in my closet when Rose walks in and flops down on my bed, completely disregarding my near-nudity, as usual.

"Morning, sunshine," I trill, glancing at her over my shoulder. I hold up a dress that I don't remember buying, trying to decide if I like it.

"So, B?" She starts, and the sound of her voice in those two words is enough to give me pause. I spin slowly around to look at her, slightly alarmed. She's lying with one arm thrown over her eyes, but I can tell by her trembling lower lip that she's either about to cry, or already is.

I grab the first tank top I see, throw it on and sit on the bed facing her. When she drops her arm from her face I start to get really freaked out. Her skin is red and blotchy, and her eyes are swollen as she stares blankly ahead. When she finally looks at me, her face contorts, the thin veneer cracking. She sits up and throws her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder.

"Rose, what's wrong? Tell me," I whisper, stroking her hair. I have a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I can count on one hand the number of times that I've seen Rose cry like this. I search my brain for an event that could trigger this kind of outburst. Yesterday is a little hazy, due to the Valium…but she said she felt queasy, and she didn't have any drinks on the flight…

_Oh shit._

"Oh my god, are you pregnant?" I spit out, pulling back to look at her. She doesn't speak, but the look on her face is answer enough. She lets me push her hair behind her ears and wipe the tears from her cheeks while she eyes the ceiling, trying to get it together, breathing out in short puffs.

_Where the hell is Jasper?_

"Did you call Emmett?" I ask gently.

She just shakes her head, more tears spilling. "Fuck," she whispers, burying her head in her hands. My mind races to catch up. I understand why she's upset, but her reaction seems a little extreme. She and Emmett love each other. We have money. We aren't, like, 16 or anything. She's going to be a great mother.

"Rose, maybe this isn't necessarily a bad thing…" I start. Her head snaps up, her glare cutting me off.

_Wrong answer._

"Oh yeah," she says sarcastically, "this is going to go over just fucking great. We live across the country from each other, we're not married and we're both still in school."

All valid points. I text J to tell him to get his ass home. He responds that he's already on his way.

I hear the back door slam, and two sets of feet on the stairs.

Jasper walks into my room frowning, Alice right behind him. I stand up and put jeans on while the two of them sit down on either side of Rose. He rubs her back, looking to me for explanation. He looks about as weirded out as I feel.

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out. She's a little calmer now, as she usually is when Jasper's there.

J and Alice sit with their mouths hanging open for a second before collecting themselves. We're in uncharted territory here.

She explains that she missed a couple of pills and told Emmett, but they weren't really worried about it and didn't use condoms that week to back it up. Despite the fact that none of us judge her, she gets defensive, pointing out that Alice and Jasper had a scare last year. She's right, but right now that hardly matters.

"You need to call Emmett," Jasper says softly.

"He's still at practice," she mumbles, glancing at my alarm clock.

"When did you know?" I ask.

"Yesterday. I don't get usually sick on planes and I barfed when I woke up this morning, so I went and got a test. Since false positives are a near-impossibility…yeah. I just can't believe I have to tell him this over the phone." She shakes her head, eyes closed.

My heart hurts when I hear her say that.

I haven't told them that I'm moving yet. I made Edward promise to let me break the news, and now I feel really guilty. Rose stayed with me last fall when he broke my heart, and suddenly I'm forced to consider the possibility that she and Emmett could break up. I realize, again, what a good friend and cousin she is, but I can now fully understand how hard it must have been for her to be away from him.

Even the suggestion of a longer separation from Edward nauseates me.

I'm a selfish asshole.

If it weren't for me she would be, at the very least, dealing with this face-to-face. I'm going to have to tell her soon.

She doesn't volunteer any more information, so we stay with her until she gets up, her legs shaky, and follow her down to the living room where her phone sits on the coffee table.

Rose and Emmett have a "safe word", too, of course. Theirs must be something dirty, because she covers her mouth and whispers it into the phone, leaving him a one-word voicemail that is going to change everything.

We watch shitty reality TV while we wait. I make sandwiches for lunch, but no one really eats. Rose doesn't even look at hers.

He calls around noon.

I hear her phone ring from in the kitchen. Jasper and Alice troop in a second later, giving her a minute alone in the living room. We pretend to busy ourselves cleaning up from lunch, but there isn't much to do, and conversation is impossible, because we're totally eavesdropping.

Emmett doesn't react well to the news, apparently. She goes from speaking quietly one second, her voice thick with emotion, to screaming some of the most creative insults I've ever heard. Then there's only silence.

I want to find her raging, her phone broken and her eyes wild. That is a scene I'm prepared to witness. That I could handle. What we find instead makes my eyes water and my entire body ache.

She's standing with one palm pressed over her lips; her eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in her body tense, like she's holding back a scream. She drops her phone onto the floor, clamping her other hand over her mouth.

We approach her cautiously, but before any of us get there she turns and runs to the bathroom to throw up.

After that she turns off her phone.

I can't help but notice that mine remains conspicuously silent for the rest of the day.

I spend the night in Rose's room, curled up behind her rubbing her back until she falls into a fitful sleep. I reach quietly for my phone and text Edward, being careful not to move too much.

_What's going on? Why haven't you called me? –B_

I'm surprised when he texts me right back.

_Sorry. With Em. He's fucking hammered. It will be better tmr. Promise. –E_

Before I can respond, I get another.

_I love you. –E_

I exhale slowly, smiling. This is for real. We're for real. He's not running away. He's taking care of Emmett, and trying to make this better.

_I love you too. –B_

* * *

In the morning, Emmett doesn't call, but Edward does. Rose says she can't stand cooking smells right now so we're eating cereal and reading the paper. If she seriously can't cook for nine months, I'm going to starve to death.

I grab my phone when it rings and look at her apologetically, stepping out of the room to answer.

"Hey."

"So…holy shit, huh?" He grumbles, obviously still in bed.

"That's kind of an understatement," I bite out, a little annoyed that he sounds so cavalier about it. "What the hell did he say to her? She won't tell us."

He's quiet for a minute. I can hear him breathing. "He definitely didn't say the right thing," he admits reluctantly. I can tell he doesn't want to have this conversation.

"Yeah, I gathered that. So, spill it."

He sighs. "He told her that he needed some time to think about what he wants to do," he says quietly.

I consider that. I can see why Rose is angry. That probably wasn't the sentiment she was looking for, even if it was the one she was expecting. From Emmett's perspective, however, it must have been sudden and surprising, and maybe he genuinely didn't know how to react.

"I get it, but this is happening whether or not he's ready to deal with it, so…" I trail off.

"He might have said something else that…wasn't good," he hedges, sounding unsure.

"What?"

"You need to understand something," he responds, taking a deep breath, "our father has been telling us to watch out for women who are only after money since we were kids. If he finds out about this…I don't know what he's going to do. He still has complete control over our accounts. He could cut Emmett off completely."

"He wouldn't do that, would he? I mean…would he?"

"I don't know, Bella. This is pretty much the one thing that we've been instructed to avoid since childhood." He sounds irritated, which pisses me off.

"Well, maybe Emmett should have thought of that when he decided to skip putting on a condom after Rose told him she missed a few pills," I snipe.

I'm met with silence, which drags on and gets uncomfortable.

"Hello?" I ask after about a full minute of dead air.

"He didn't tell me that."

"I can see why not."

"That makes what he said next even worse," he groans.

I sit up a little, furrowing my brow. "There's more?"

"He told her that my – that our father was going to want a paternity test."

At that, I stalk out the front door of the house, because the rage that's consuming me isn't something that Rose needs to witness right now. My skin flushes cold and then hot. My chest is heaving.

"Are you _fucking kidding me_?" I whisper-yell once I get outside. "Put that _motherfucker_ on the phone!"

"Bella-"

"Put him on the _FUCKING PHONE, _Edward." This time I really do yell, pausing to wave at a startled neighbor who happens to be walking by with her dog. "Sorry, Mrs. Stanley. Good morning. Sorry," I stutter as she strides briskly away.

_Whatever._

I refocus, listening to the rustling of sheets and a whole bunch of sighing. I picture him sitting on the edge of the bed now, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Bella, I don't know if this is a good idea. He didn't really mean it like that. He didn't say that he wanted one, just that our father would. You know Emmett's not an asshole, he's just scared."

"He basically called her a fucking gold digger, Edward. If you could have seen her face…" My voice is getting louder again. I'm standing with my hand on my hip in the front yard…in my pajamas. Awesome.

"Fine. I'm going," he concedes.

More rustling. I hear a groan, and then a small, gravelly voice. "Hello?"

"Paternity test? Seriously? How could you say that shit to her, Em?"

His breath hitches, but he doesn't say anything. I want to reach through the phone and strangle him, but more than that he needs to make this right.

I decide on somewhere in the middle.

"Whatever your issue is, whatever you need to deal with, fucking _do it_, and then call her. Not because it's the right thing to do, but because you love her and she's sick and she's scared. If you walk away now, she's never going to forgive you, but more importantly, you're never going to forgive yourself."

I pause, remembering her face after she got off the phone with him yesterday. I clench my jaw, channeling Rose's ire when she goes into protective mode.

"Oh, and Emmett? If you say anything like that to her ever again, I will find you and kick your motherfucking ass. No joke. Peace."

I hang up dramatically, but it's without the satisfaction that usually comes after telling someone off.

Rose went back to bed while I was outside, so I relay the conversation verbatim to Jasper and Alice, including the fact that I ended the conversation by saying "peace".

We all agree that I'm a dork.

We are also all hoping that this blows over quickly. They love each other. He shouldn't have said that shit, because even if it's true it's just not a comment that has a place in their first conversation about their future child. That said, sometimes my gut reactions aren't entirely appropriate either. I start to feel a little bad about blowing up at him.

_Not that bad, though._

Jasper calls Edward shortly after that, and they agree that we need to bring in the big guns. Carlisle is on our doorstep within the hour and disappears into Rose's room. Esme is on her way to Texas to deal with Emmett.

I spend the day cleaning the house, which I never do. There's something cathartic about scrubbing away the dirt that accumulated over the summer, though it's fairly minimal since the house was cleaned before we got home. Jasper and Alice hover around while I work. We're mostly silent, because there's not much to say.

Carlisle stays with Rose until she finally falls asleep, and then he stays in the guest room. I hear him get up a few times in the night to check on her.

A few things occur to me while I'm laying sleepless and alone in my bed. I grab my notebook and start scribbling notes.

Edward must really trust me, or he's just a reckless moron; maybe a little bit of both. I think of that first time with him in the lake, with no barrier between us, and contemplate what that really means to someone like him. Sadly, I admit to myself that in some ways it meant nothing, because I was one amongst so many. I think that may have been his way of tempting fate; the ultimate middle finger to his father, when he had no other way to get to him. I know it's different between us now, but this could ruin Rose and Emmett's relationship, and they're perfect for each other. I'm not sure how to feel about it yet.

After I'm done purging my thoughts onto paper, I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling, much like Rose did yesterday, trying to find some answers.

I wonder if I'm going to meet his father, and when.

I wonder if Emmett is going to get it together.

Most of all, I wonder what Rose is going to do if he doesn't.

* * *

**Four chaps left!?! **

**Crazy talk, right?**

**Gonna miss these darn kids. **

**Find me on twitter. It's locked, but not because I don't want to be twitter friends with you, so just send a request! **

**http://twitter(dot)com/sweetlolapop **

**Also, working on a story with Belle Dean (who rocks, and you should go read Winter of Love). We're callling it a novella (novelette?) that we'll be posting under the penname BelleLola. More info to come soon!**

**Thanks for reading.**


	22. Get Your Fix

**Oh, guys. I'm just dyin' here. I cannot wait to get these next few, final chapters out to you, because they're coming together and I'm all atwitter with butterflies and goosebumps and love. **

**My betas make this readable, and also provide much-needed support. LouderThanSirens and MommaBear, there aren't words, and if there were, they would likely need to be beta'd, so thank you.**

**I also have to thank BelleDean and stephk0525, without whom I would probably have quit a long time ago. You make this fun. **

**Thank you, jajo, for validating, and to RoseArcadia for her sweet pimpin' skillz. **

**Oh, and thanks to everyone on twitter, because you make me happy, keep me motivated, and crack me up all day long. Mwah.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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Edward

I try not to think about how disturbed I am by the shit Emmett said to Rose. I hear the tail end of their conversation and find him pacing his room, his hands fisting his hair. When he whips the lamp violently across the room, I am, for the first time ever, afraid of my brother. I know he wouldn't hurt anyone, but his lack of control reminds me of our father losing it. When we were kids I watched that shit from behind Emmett, because he was always there to protect me while the asshole raged.

When he sees me frozen in his doorway, he stops, staring at me like he's looking at a stranger. I feel like I'm looking back at one, too. I feel like I'm six years old.

My voice shakes when I can finally make myself speak. "What the fuck, Em?"

He just shakes his head, shoving past me to the kitchen, slamming down a shot glass and a bottle of Patron, even though it's only early afternoon. We don't have practice tomorrow, so I just sit at the bar and watch him pour with a shaky hand, and don't say a word.

Between shots, he tells me what happened. I try not to react strongly, even though this whole thing is really fucked. He's still worked up, his muscles tense. I wonder how hard he would have to squeeze to break the shot glass in his fist.

He relaxes a little when the booze kicks in, but he doesn't stop doing shots until the Patron is gone, then he switches to beer. The more he drinks, the more he talks, and the more emotional he gets. I cut him off when he puts on Radiohead and starts weeping like a chick. I also hide his phone, which pisses him off, but by the time he figures out that I took it, he's so drunk that he can hardly stand up. When he passes out face down on his bed, I'm almost relieved.

By the time Bella texts me, Emmett's been out for hours. I don't know what the fuck to say to her, though. So I just assure her that everything's going to be okay in the morning and hope that I'm right.

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There's a kind of hangover that is worse than any other in the world. Emmett is definitely going to have that kind.

It happens when you're drinking to forget about something. Waking up to the physical agony is bad enough, but the true pain comes with the slow realization that you are still yourself and that you still have to deal with everything you were trying to ignore. On top of all that, you probably did something while you were wasted that you won't live down for a long time.

Luckily for Emmett, I'll only bring up the Radiohead and the crying if I really need to blackmail the sad bastard at some point.

I feel a little guilty starting his day off with the phone call from Bella, but the girl has a point, so I walk into his room and toss the phone at him. He squints at me, his eyes bloodshot, and his breath rank enough to make me take a step back. I can see the last 24 hours all come back to him the second that she starts talking.

When they hang up, I pick my phone up off his bed and clean up the broken glass in his room while he lies with his head buried under his pillow. He won't even acknowledge me when I try talking to him. When I figure out that he's crying, I throw out what's left of the lamp and decide to leave him alone for a few hours.

I leave a bottle of water and a sandwich on his nightstand for lunch. He drinks the water but doesn't touch the sandwich.

Mom shows up while I'm making dinner. She puts her bags down in the living room and gives me a hug before walking straight to Emmett's room. I'm making all his favorite foods, trying to distract myself from thinking about the possible outcomes of this fucked-up situation.

The shower starts a few minutes later, and I hear his door shut quietly. Mom sits at the bar in the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes and smiling tiredly at me.

"I got him out of bed. He's going to shower and come out. He looks awful," she sighs, her voice stressed.

Neither of us says much. I'm afraid if I start talking, I'm going to upset her more than she already is. For the same reason, I decide not to tell her about the lamp.

When Emmett walks in and sits next to her, I can tell he's been crying again. I'm almost desperate to get our dynamic back to normal; this isn't how shit goes down in my family. Emmett's not the one who does stupid shit. Emmett doesn't throw things. Emmett doesn't do things that he needs to feel guilty about. I wonder if the two of them feel as lost as I do right now.

I'm relieved when they go sit in the living room, because I can't watch my big brother break down again. I leave the finished dinner on the stove and lay down in my room. I'm not hungry, and I doubt they are, either.

This could fuck everything up, and I'm not talking about trust fund shit. If Rose is pregnant, I doubt Bella will still move here. It's a selfish thought, but I can't help it. It's not something I want to talk about yet, and I know I should call Bella but I just…don't.

We start our regular practice schedule tomorrow, so I get ready for bed early and turn out the lights without saying goodnight to my mom and Em, who are still talking in the living room.

That night I have the same fucked up dreams that I've had since I was a kid, but unlike every other time, when I wake up in the morning I wonder if Emmett has them too.

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"There's no way we can come right now," I repeat again, "we have practice and training every day and we can't miss it."

It's been about a week, and Bella's flipping out. It's late here and I'm already in bed, but I let her rant.

"Okay, but Rose won't talk to him. She won't take his calls; she doesn't even want us to say his name."

I try to keep the frustration out of my voice. "I don't know what you want me to do."

She sighs. "We could come there, but I have no idea how I could get her on the plane."

"Has she listened to any of the messages he left?"

"She just deletes them without reading them. I can't say I blame her."

I can tell this is a conversation that I'm doomed to repeat endlessly until Rose and Emmett figure their shit out.

It could be a fucking minute.

Emmett's a mess. I made him promise to quit the heavy drinking. He might be miserable, but at least he's sober. He's acting really strange. He apologizes for the lamp, and he's so serious and sad that I immediately forgive him and hope he doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't, and we spend that night watching TV in relieved silence.

I think a lot about what he can do to make it right, but don't come up with anything. I'm not lying, we really can't just hop a plane right now, but normally Emmett would find a way to make it work…no matter what.

I guess he feels like he doesn't deserve the chance, or is afraid he'll be a bad father, or something. I don't know, but either way he needs to do something.

"Do you think Carlisle would talk to Emmett?"

"He did, but when he tried to talk to Rose about it she went off on him. It would've been funny if she wasn't totally terrifying right now."

"What about my mom?"

"She called a few times, but Rose won't answer. She feels bad, but she says she's not ready."

"It's alright. My mom's cool, so tell her to take her time." I need to change the subject. I can't spend this much time talking about other people's feelings and shit. "So…what are you wearing?"

"Nice, Cullen. Very original. I can't just switch into phone sex mode right now. Sorry."

I love it when she calls me Cullen.

"That's really too bad, because I'm not having a problem with that transition at all."

"Perv."

"Prude."

She laughs and then sighs. "God, I fucking miss you."

"I miss you too. Too much."

"I seriously don't know if I can go a month without seeing you, so I might have to fly out even if I can't get Rose to come with me." She's quiet for a breath. "I miss your taste," she murmurs.

Shit.

"Just tell me when and I'll book it," I respond quickly, thinking about her lips.

"I can buy my own plane tickets, but thanks. Shouldn't you be watching your spending, anyway?"

"I'm flush," I brag, kidding.

"Yeah, unless I get knocked up!" She laughs, but it fades off quickly when she realizes what she said. "Oh. Sorry."

I'm fucking pissed, but not at her. It's just total bullshit. It's not that I want to have kids right now, but not having the option isn't right. I stew for a second before I answer, "It's okay."

"I'm sorry, that was a terrible joke," she says sincerely. "Is it just me or do we really suck at this whole 'finding a plan' thing?"

She's right, we do. To be fair though, neither of us has dealt with this kind of situation before, and doing it long distance makes it that much harder.

This is my first long distance relationship. Shit, this is my first relationship, period, so I'm just figuring it out, or at least I hope I am.

"We do suck at it, but we'll figure it out. Right now what I really want to talk about is getting you here and making you scream my name for three days straight," I say, my face muffled by my pillow.

"Whatever you say, Ron Jeremy," she says dryly, before cracking up. A few days ago she told me she thinks it's hilarious that those were my first two words to her. Honestly, I don't really remember. I countered anyway, reminding her that I got the girl, so therefore I'm a smooth motherfucker. We ended up agreeing to disagree.

"Oh come on, you know you want it, Bella."

"You really are a cocky fuck, you know that?" she scoffs, a smile in her voice.

"You love that shit."

"Maybe," she laughs.

"I've gotta go. I have to be up super early."

"Oh, bummer. I was going to get naked and log into Skype."

"You're such a fucking tease," I say, groaning.

"You love that shit," she repeats my words back to me, her voice low.

"Fuck. I do. And I love you."

"I love you too."

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It's been a week and a half, and Emmett's depression is starting to get to me. I can't stand to see him like this. It's just weird and wrong.

When he's finally out of the loft for a few hours, I sit on the edge of my bed and dial an unfamiliar number for the first time.

"Hello." It's not a question. She obviously knows it's me.

"Hi, Rose." She doesn't respond, but she doesn't hang up either, so I just start talking.

It's hard at first, trying to say shit out loud that I don't even like to think about.

I tell her about the lamp and that whole day, relaying the logistics easily, but stuttering when it comes to saying how it made me feel.

She doesn't say a word. This is more of a monologue than a conversation.

I tell her about the dreams. I've never told anyone that; not even Emmett. I explain why I think Emmett reacted the way he did, and why he hasn't shown up on her doorstep. I stop and wait for her to say something when I'm finally done spilling my fucking guts.

She clears her throat. "You know, this is the second time that you've tried to convince me to give someone a second chance. Of course the first time, you were vouching for yourself." She chuckles quietly. I do, too.

I wait a beat, and make my final argument. "Just talk to him, Rose. He's fucking wrecked. Give him the chance to grovel." The next part makes me feel stupid because it's going to sound sappy, but I suck it up and keep going. "I'm excited to be an uncle. We don't have a lot of family..." I could elaborate on how lonely that made me feel as a kid and how hard Emmett and I tried to hide it from my mom, but I know I wouldn't be able to get the words out. "He loves you, and he's going to be a great dad. You know that."

She sniffs, and I hear the rustle of a tissue.

Shit. I made her cry.

"Okay," she finally says. "Thanks." She hangs up after a few seconds, and I turn my head to look at the picture of Bella on my nightstand.

I hope I did the right thing.

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I don't know what you said to her, but she's willing to fly out this weekend. –B

I glance at Emmett, who is slumped over on the couch, playing Madden again. He hasn't moved much for the last few days aside from practice and workouts.

I'm confused. If Rose had called, I'm pretty sure that Emmett would have not only said something, but wouldn't still be this fucking morose.

I take it she didn't call Em? Buying tickets. –E

She just wants to show up. Don't tell him. –B

This is kind of fucked up, but I'm not going to argue with Rose if it's what she wants to do, so I keep my mouth shut.

I'm picking them up from the airport on Friday night. I tell Emmett I'm going out to dinner with mom, realizing my slip right after the lie comes out of my mouth; she's back in L.A. with Carlisle. He doesn't notice though, he just nods and continues pressing the buttons on the controller listlessly. I wish he knew what was coming, because he kind of looks like shit and probably needs a shower after our rough practice today, but if I start bugging him about his personal hygiene he'll definitely know something's up.

I spend the drive thinking about all the things I'm going to do to Bella in my room. When I get out of the car to help them put their bags in the trunk, I have to adjust myself so I don't greet them with my obvious, raging hard-on. Bella jumps on me, though, wrapping her legs around me and kissing my neck. She pulls back, looking down towards my belt and grinning.

She hops down a second later, and I see Rose standing next to her bag, watching the two of us sadly. She looks worse than Emmett. I feel bad thinking it, but she's pale and has dark circles under her eyes. I'm a little concerned, because Rose just doesn't look like shit. Ever.

Bella gives me a meaningful look that lets me know that she's worried too.

Rose looks at me for a split second before looking down at her feet. She's stiff at first when I put my arms around her, but she relaxes after a few seconds. I think this is the first time we've ever hugged. She shudders, and I realize that she's crying into my t-shirt. Bella looks on helplessly. I'm shaken by the show of emotion, which seems to be the norm lately. First Emmett and now Rose. The fact that they're both this unhappy is a testament to the fact that they belong together. It can't go on like this.

I put the bags in and get Rose situated in the front seat; Bella's afraid Rose will get carsick if she sits in the back. I want more than anything to hold Bella's hand, but Rose is looking a little green, so I try to be patient knowing I'll get to fall asleep with my girl pressed against me tonight.

Bella tells me about the flight and makes small talk, while Rose sits silently, staring straight ahead. I hope I didn't make a mistake by keeping this from Emmett.

I take them up to our floor, and we enter the loft quietly. Em is passed out on the couch, annoying video game music echoing across the hardwood floors. I set their bags down and turn off the TV. He stirs, sitting up slowly and glaring at me, still half asleep. He's always cranky when he gets woken up.

"Hey," he grumbles, waking up a little more when he registers that I'm standing in front of him with my hands in my pockets, looking uncomfortable. He raises his eyebrows at me in a silent question.

I nod towards Rose and Bella, who are still standing by the front door, and he turns around, jumping up when he sees Rose.

She's standing with one palm flat on her abdomen, but tenses and drops her hand to her side when he stands up. It's still, silent and tense while we wait for someone to make a move. Bella and I look between the two of them and meet eyes worriedly for a second.

The second that Rose's mouth turns down and she shuts her eyes, Emmett is over the couch and in front of her. He stops, his eyes flicking desperately between hers as she looks up at him. A tear rolls down her cheek and she gives him the slightest of nods. He drops to his knees, pressing his face against her stomach while she strokes his hair and he brokenly whispers "I'm so sorry" over and over again.

Bella comes to me and I lead her out of the room, both of us trying to sneak out without making any noise. I feel like we interrupted the most intimate of moments.

I try to restrain myself from tearing off every shred of her clothing the second my bedroom door shuts, but it doesn't matter, because she strips in seconds, pushing me back onto my desk chair and fumbling with my belt. She sinks onto me, our eyes locked, and it's quick and quietly frantic. I can't hold out, and spill into her before I want to. We don't break eye contact until she comes a few seconds later, her eyes fluttering closed while she bites back a moan.

I pick her up and lay us down on the bed, not willing to let even an inch of space between our bodies. All she's wearing is the Tiffany necklace that I gave her last Christmas, which I've never seen on her. I run my fingers across the delicate chain, kissing at where it lingers on her skin.

"I needed that so bad," she whispers against my lips.

"I love you. I'm so glad you're here," I respond, running my hands over the soft skin of her back.

We stay in my room for the rest of the night, speculating about what's going on in the rest of the loft, but decide we don't really want to find out. She falls asleep first, and I listen to her soft breathing and feel her fingers and toes twitch against my skin while she dreams.

I need her here more than anything. I can't live without it for much longer, because I don't need to bury my face in the green scarf to breathe in her scent with her here, and I don't have to look at a picture to see her face.

I'm so happy it hurts and now that I have it, I want to feel like this all the time.

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**Thank you for reading. I've been a total butthead about responding to reviews of late, but I'm going to get to all of them this chapter. I just need to get the hell off twitter.**

**Therefore I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you can follow me (and I'll follow you back because you guys are freaking wonderful) here:**

**/sweetlolapop**

**I'll be seein' you.**

**xo**


	23. The Snap

Bella

Edward is still soundly asleep when I wake up, one hot arm thrown over me. I enjoy the weight, heat, and scent coming off of him for a few minutes before I shimmy out from under his arm carefully. I use his bathroom before I throw on one of his t-shirts and find my hastily discarded underwear.

It's weird to finally be in his actual bedroom. It's a total boy room, muted colors and soft, dark sheets. The walls are covered with framed black and white prints that I don't recognize, and there's a shelf with trophies, ribbons and team photos dating back to his peewee days. He was a cute kid, which doesn't surprise me at all.

I expect to at least see some evidence of former girls…a photo or a phone number, but there's nothing. I think I'm almost looking for it, like a masochistic detective. I stop myself before I start opening drawers, though. I'm not totally over my insecurity about being here, but I'm trying.

I see my framed photo on his nightstand and pick it up; the fact that it's here, right by his bed, makes me want to cry. Tucked into the corner of the frame is what looks like the list he gave me last summer. I unfold it slowly and read it over. There's a line that wasn't there when I read it last.

_Because you want to marry her._

I stare at it for a while, my heart in my throat, before refolding it and putting back in the frame. I can't even begin to process that yet. When I turn around, he's awake and watching me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to …" I start, but then abandon the statement, because I totally meant to.

He smiles sleepily at me and pulls me back into bed so I'm facing him. We don't talk about the list, we don't really need to, but I kiss him hard so he understands how the last line on the list made me feel.

He reminds me that he and Em have night practice, and tells me that they're taking us to dinner and then a party tonight, if Rose is up for it. I get a little queasy at the mention of the party, but try to hide it. I'm unsuccessful.

"Do you not want to go?" he asks sincerely, "We really don't have to. I would be perfectly happy to keep you in bed until you leave." He runs his hand slowly up my thigh and under his t-shirt, ghosting over my curves and resting it on my ribs.

I'm inclined to agree with him, but I know I'm going to have to take this step at some point. "I love parties. As long as there are Jello shots and frat boys," I tease.

"It's not really like that," he says, frowning.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, it's kinda like that," he concedes, a smile touching his lips. "I want you to meet my friends. They've all been warned that if they touch you I'll straight up fucking kill 'em, so nothing's going to happen," he says seriously. He grabs my left breast possessively, running his thumb over my nipple and making me inhale sharply.

"You did not seriously tell them that," I scoff; or I try to scoff, but he's running his fingers down my spine lightly, and my back arches minutely.

"I'm not really worried about your guy friends, Edward. I'm worried about your girl friends." His hand stops moving, resting low on my back. He stares at me for a minute, and I can't read his expression.

"You have nothing to worry about, and I mean that," he says intensely, pushing his palm harder against me and pulling me closer. I believe him, but I'm still nervous. Women can be fucking vicious, and men are often completely oblivious to the underhanded nature of female relationships.

He spends the next hour making me forget about the apprehension, though; over and over again. We have always been physically compatible, and although much of that is probably due to his…skills… the more we're together and the more we know about each other, the better it gets. Like, better than better. I'm shaking and gasping and can't walk for a few minutes after.

We spend an eternity in the shower. We get clean, but what happens inside is very, very dirty.

By the time we get out to the kitchen, breakfast is getting cold. Rose is wearing a giant TAMU t-shirt and is curled up with Emmett on the couch drinking what looks like tea. They both turn and look at us smugly.

Apparently we weren't as quiet as we should have been, but I just shrug and smile. If anyone can understand, it's these two.

They look like they got some sleep and the color is back in Rose's cheeks. Jasper kept saying he thought the morning sickness was really from stress, and maybe he was right.

I look down at the food. Omelets, bacon, fruit…Emmett did not make this.

"Did you make breakfast, Rose?" I ask, trying to hide my excitement.

"Yeah, why?" she asks, turning back to watch us load our plates with food. I'm starving.

"It just looks really good. Thank you." What I don't say is this means everything is going to be okay. If Rose is cooking, the universe has righted itself and we're all going to live happily ever after.

Edward and I sit at the table to eat. Rose and Emmett are watching a football game that looks like it was filmed in the 1970's. I decide it's time to come clean to Edward about something that I hope won't be a huge problem between us.

"So…I kind of have something to confess," I say timidly.

His head snaps toward me, his brows furrowed. He looks worried and a little angry.

"I don't really know anything about football," I say solemnly.

His face relaxes, and then he bursts into laughter. Rose and Emmett both turn, wearing amused grins.

"What?" I ask, because I don't know what's so funny.

"We know," he says apologetically, leaning over to kiss my temple and ruffle my hair like a little kid.

"Shut up," I pout, but I'm smiling.

It's almost 95 degrees out and none of us want to go anywhere, so we spend the day at the loft. Rose and I decide to go watch their practice. The two of us sit together in the stands, where there are actually quite a few alumni and students around us. It finally starts to cool off as it gets later, but the metal benches radiate the heat from the sun even after it starts to go down. Rose fans herself listlessly. She's about six weeks now, so she's not showing yet; her stomach is still flat under her tight tank top and shorts. I can tell that she lost some weight in the last week. I hope now that she and Em are doing better that she'll start getting round and glowy like I imagine it's supposed to be when you're pregnant.

I haven't really watched Edward play, aside from the game against the Longhorns that I caught a glimpse of last Thanksgiving. Everything here is bigger than I thought, and pretty intimidating, honestly. It's only a practice and I have goose bumps watching him on the huge field, his arm winding back and whipping the ball forward easily. He sometimes gets tackled, but more often he avoids them, his movements agile. I can't wait to fuck him while he's wearing his uniform. Those little pants are so tight, and his arms...shit. When he pulls off his helmet and finds me in the stands, our eyes lock and a slow smile spreads across both of our faces. That's when I know I need to tell Rose, because I'm definitely moving here.

"I'm going to move out here after fall semester," I say quickly, turning to look at Rose.

"I figured," she answers after a minute. She watches Emmett on the field.

"Rose," I say once, asking her to look at me without saying the words.

She does so reluctantly, and her expression is uncertain and sad. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet," she admits.

"I think you should come with," I say firmly.

"I want to, but leaving everything…my dad, and Jasper and Alice," she swallows hard, "I've never lived apart from him," she mumbles, and I know she's talking about her twin. She's so independent that sometimes I forget how close she and Jasper are, and how much she needs him to balance her out.

I understand. I'm not sure if I'm ready either, but when I look back to him the field, I know it doesn't matter.

I slip my arm through hers, and we hold hands. After a few minutes she starts explaining the game of football to me, because she tells me that if I'm going to move in with a quarterback, I should probably know that a bootleg doesn't have anything to do with running illegal alcohol.

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On the way back to the loft, Emmett asks Rose about a thousand times if she's sure she's up to going out tonight.

"Jesus, Em. I'm pregnant, not disabled," she snips, but then closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. For a girl who already has trouble keeping her mouth in check, the hormones are going to be a bitch. "I can be sober cab. I think we all need to get out and have some fun."

We take our time getting ready for a late dinner. Edward stands behind me with his hands all over me while I put makeup on in his bathroom.

This should be fun. I want to see what life is like here, and that's what it entails, so I don't know why I'm so apprehensive. Edward seems completely comfortable at dinner, eating and talking easily. I pick at my food, though, drinking my wine quickly.

Rose keeps giving me strange looks, and corners me in the bathroom before we go.

"What's up?" she asks, leaning her hip against the counter while I wash my hands.

"I don't know, I'm just nervous," I mumble, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She crosses her arms and waits for me to finish drying my hands.

"He loves you. That's all that matters." My stomach turns, because what she's saying is that none of the other girls that are undoubtedly going to be there tonight matter. I knew this part was coming, but that doesn't make it easier. I turn to the mirror, adjusting my dress and running my fingers through my hair.

I'm wearing cowgirl boots and a very short black baby doll dress, and I have to admit that I feel pretty fucking good. At Rose's insistence we stop at the bar on the way out and Edward, Emmett and I do a shot while Rose eggs us on. I let the booze calm me, and on the way to the party we drive with the windows open, bumping loud, unfamiliar hip-hop that Emmett raps along to, badly, while Rose drives and rolls her eyes at him. I sit in the middle seat in the back next to Edward. He has his arm around me and I move to the music, smiling at him. I'm going to try to let go and have fun.

The party is packed, every square inch packed with slick bodies moving to the base rumbling up from the floor. We make our way to the bar, and Emmett and Edward get hollered at as they walk past, doing the man handshake/half hug thing with the guys. The girls shriek hellos at the boys but their eyes narrow when they see me. They look away after seeing Rose, though; because she just looks like someone you don't want to fuck with. I should be so lucky.

After a few of those encounters I keep my eyes forward, secure with my small hand wrapped in Edward's large one, smiling when he introduces me to someone, but ignoring the rest.

I start to loosen up after another shot and a beer. Rose and I decide to dance, moving into the crowd together, leaving Emmett and Edward in a crowd of guys talking bullshit about football.

A song comes on that we actually know and we dance together, goofing off. All eyes are on us, but especially on Rose, who is, as always, looking insanely hot. In the hour we've been here, everyone seems to know we're here with Emmett and Edward.

The two of them are watching us closely from by the bar, but we ignore them, knowing that they're keeping an eye on us.

I don't see Tanya until it's too late.

She comes barreling up, drunk as shit, and throws an arm around Rose, who looks at her with disgust.

"Rose! Bella!" she slurs, tripping over her feet and spilling her beer down the front of my dress.

I step back, gasping as the cold beer runs over my tits and down my stomach.

The crowd around us backs up a little, a collective "Ooooooh" starting up when people realize what's happening. Tanya gives me a long look, and it's cold and sober. I realize what she's doing right away. So does Rose.

Rose doesn't fuck around. She grabs Tanya roughly by the arm and drags her out of the crowd toward Emmett and Edward.

"Look who I found!" Rose yells sarcastically at Edward, dropping Tanya's arm like it's dirty. "She spilled her fucking drink all over Bella."

Edward pulls me close, eyeing the wet front of my dress before looking up at Tanya.

He clenches his jaw and stares at her, not amused.

"Edward!" she says drunkenly, smiling. It's obvious that she's faking it now. Neither of us respond. It's then that I notice a group of very pretty girls across the room watching us avidly. I nudge Rose with my elbow, nodding towards them. They're talking amongst themselves, glaring at us, until Rose turns her gaze in their direction.

They stop, and their expressions change from smug to uncomfortable as they look off in the other direction.

Emmett throws his arms up behind her. "_What, bitches?_" He yells at them, laughing, and pulls Rose back against him, one hand lying protectively over her belly.

Tanya watches her friends turn away from her and then looks back at us.

"Sorry about the beer," she says flatly, dropping the drunken act.

"It's all good, girl," I answer, not breaking her gaze. She looks to Edward who still has the same hard expression on his face, setting her jaw and nodding before she walks away.

He grabs paper towels, pressing them against the thin black cotton of my dress. His hands linger on me longer than necessary. People are watching us.

I shake it off even though he's really pissed off. It's not the first time that I've had a drink spilled on me, intentionally or not, but we don't go back out onto the dance floor either way.

An hour later, I'm sitting on the counter in the kitchen with Edward standing between my thighs. We're talking to a group of his friends, and they're blatantly looking at my legs and tits, but they're all really drunk, so it comes with the territory. He compensates by standing really close to me and keeping one hand on me at all times; preferably on bare skin.

I've done numerous shots, but I'm holding up pretty well toward the end of the night. Edward has his hand so far up the outside of my thigh, that he's practically grabbing my ass. I should be ashamed; his possessiveness makes me want him so bad I consider pulling him into an empty bedroom.

The thought makes my stomach drop. I shouldn't think shit like that. Not here, where it's undoubtedly happened before. I suddenly want to be anywhere else, but I force myself to look at this situation again, and see it for what it is.

He's making it so obvious that he and I are together that it's almost laughable. Maybe I should just get a t-shirt that reads "Property of Edward". If someone talks to him, he very deliberately introduces me as his girlfriend. I can tell when a girl is actually just his friend (though they are few and far between) because they come up and chat with both of us without eyeing his hands on me jealously and giving me sideways glances. The others say hello and then slink away shortly after they realize that he's not interested. It's a strange power, but when I identify it, it buzzes through me like a drug.

He's mine.

I'm his.

None of this shit changes that.

Without warning he grabs me around the waist and sets me on the floor.

"Goodnight, y'all. I'm taking this girl home," he says loudly over the music, nodding for Rose and Emmett to follow us.

_Real subtle, E. I like it, though._

We leave the kitchen while his teammates catcall at us, and make our way outside where it's a little bit cooler, but not much.

We barely make it into his bedroom before my legs are wrapped around him and he's moaning my name. I think I could learn to like this place.

There are a few conversations that we need to have before we leave here, but I don't know how to begin. Rose doesn't have that problem, though, so Sunday night we're sitting around the dining room table after eating the best steaks I've ever had, and she just starts talking.

"So what are we going to do?" she says, making eye contact with each of us.

We all know what she means.

Now that they know I'm moving, all that's left is Rose and Emmett…and the baby. Emmett has made it clear that he wants her to move in with him, but he hasn't said a word about his dad, at least not in front of me and Edward.

Edward speaks up first. "I think Emmett should fly out with me in October, and we'll all have dinner with our father. I don't see any way around it, and I think you two need to meet him."

He's right, but if I was nervous about going to a stupid college party, I may need pharmaceuticals to get through that dinner. Fuck. It doesn't help that Emmett and Edward are visibly upset by the prospect.

Rose shrugs. "Okay," she says, getting up to clear the table. So I guess that's that. All three of us jump up to help and she rolls her eyes. "You know, you guys are really starting to annoy me. Emmett, Bella, sit down. Edward, you can help me, but only because you actually know your way around a kitchen."

Edward smiles smugly at Emmett and I, who flop back in our chairs relieved. I hate dishes and clearing tables and all that crap. I would have made a terrible housewife.

I observe Emmett for a minute. He's watching Rose direct Edward around the kitchen and he has this small, sad smile on his face. He catches me staring at him, and looks down at the table.

"Em," I say quietly, "it's gonna be okay. No matter what."

He doesn't look as sure as I'm trying to sound, but he nods and smiles.

It kills me to leave him again. It gets worse every time, and this time I can see the toll it's taking on him.

He doesn't cry, but I do, and when I wrap my arms around him for the last time before I turn and walk through the airport doors, I breathe him in deep. I don't want to let go.

On the plane, Rose and I don't talk. There's nothing to say. I know it was just as hard for her and Emmett to part; I saw tears in his eyes when I turned back to wave at him.

I get back to L.A. feeling disjointed and alone, even though I'm excited to see Jasper and Alice. He's out getting take-out for dinner when we get home, so we're greeted by Alice, and she's got a whole shitload of wedding plans to run past us. We listen tiredly as she goes down the list of things we all need to do.

"Make sense?" she asks when she's finished.

Rose and I both nod, neither of us able to muster the enthusiasm that Alice deserves.

She appraises both of us before she closes the binder in front of her slowly and lifts it up to press against her chest. Her bottom lip quivers while she regards us. I instantly feel awful for my selfishness.

"Oh, Al. I'm sorry, we just had such a shitty day," I explain, standing up to pull her into a hug. "We are so excited for you guys, and you know we'll be there to help you with whatever you need."

She nods, wiping her eyes as she backs out of our hug, her eyes on Rose.

Rose stands up and throws her arms around Alice, and before I know it all three of us are in tears, and then we descend into laughter. We've been through a lot together, but sometimes I think that Rose and I forget that Alice doesn't just inherently understand what we're going through, because the two of us are so in tune to each other.

I move over to the other side of the counter and mix drinks, making Rose's a virgin of course. We sit in the living room and Rose and I tell her all about our trip.

When Jasper gets home, we're draped over each other on the couch debating about bridesmaid dress colors. It's going to be at the lake over Christmas and very casual, so they're forgoing the usual wedding planner bullshit and just inviting close friends and family. Rose is going to make the food, and I'm in charge of helping them write their vows. Jasper has already been obsessively compiling a playlist for the event.

Alice reminds me to check with Mike to see if he can make it. I haven't seen him since we got back, and I feel pretty horrible about it. I make a mental note to call him the next day.

Rose and I talked about how we were going to tell J and Alice that I'm moving. I think we should broach the topic gently, but as usual, Rose just dives in head first with no warning.

They accept the news easily, like they've been expecting to hear it.

"I'm going to move, too," Rose mumbles after I explain the details, her bravado gone.

The three of us turn to look at her. I didn't know they had made the decision, and I'm a little annoyed that she didn't mention it since we've been together all day.

She and Jasper share a look that erases my irritation instantly. She starts bawling seconds later, and Alice and I look on helplessly while Jasper tries to hold back his own tears.

I think about the emotional upheaval we've gone through in the last couple of weeks…I'm just tired. I bet I'll be able to go a year without crying after this. Fuck.

I feel like I've been waiting for things to go back to normal, but I think I need to resign myself to the fact that things aren't going to go back to anything, they're going to evolve, and we all need to do the same. Embrace the change.

Watching the people closest to me trying to cope with it, I know it's going to be a rough ride. I haven't even told Charlie yet either, and that conversation is going to be a difficult one, no doubt.

After the tears subside, we eat Chinese food out of the cartons and put on _Big Trouble in Little China_. I'm going to miss this more than anything, but big things are coming. Good things.

We're going to have a baby in the family, Jasper and Alice are going to take the next step, and….Edward wants to marry me.

He wants to _marry me._

I write just that sentence down in my journal while we watch the movie, reading it again and again until it begins to sink in. Everything is going to be okay. I'm sure of it. I'll make sure of it. We just need to embrace the change.


	24. Drawing Limits

**Alright, my friends. Here it is. One chapter left after this. I know. I KNOW. Are you all feeling the weight of that like I am? Damn.**

**I've been editing the shit out of this, and loladude finally said "Put down the brush." He's right. 'Tis what it 'tis. **

**I have much love to leave, but I'm going to do most of that in the last chapter endnote. For now? My betas are tits. LouderthanSirens and MommaBear, thank you thank you.**

**My prereader, and the yang to my yin, stephk0525 is…just the effin' best girl around. I couldn't have done it without her.**

**BelleDean is a stone-cold fox, and Skateward is going to be taking up allll my time after SoS is done. I think you'll looooove him.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Bella

Emmett Cullen, Sr. has an edge that comes through even in photos.

I probably shouldn't have Googled him, but I guess I wanted to have an idea of what to expect tonight. I've been up since 5am, sleep evading me, and I was going through my morning routine when I got the urge to type in his name.

He's undeniably handsome; he's smiling in every picture, but his eyes aren't kind. The resemblance between he and Edward is uncanny, and he's got Emmett's build. Edward is going to age well, if these images are any indication, but I really hope that the similarities end there.

I know he's a doctor, but I didn't realize exactly how high up on the social ladder he really is. He's pictured with a whole legion of political figures and some celebrities that I recognize. I doubt he's a household name, but he holds clout in some circles, obviously. The list of organizations that he serves with is extensive, and surprisingly altruistic. I read about his schooling and accomplishments, and try to figure out how this person on the screen coincides with the pain I see in Edward's eyes when he says his name.

Emmett and Edward will be here later today. We decided to get the dinner out of the way the first night so we don't have it hanging over our heads. I've been jumpy and irritable for days.

I have three suitable outfits picked out, down to the shoes and jewelry. Rose just rolled her eyes when I asked her what she was wearing, so I'm going to get Edward's opinion when he gets here.

I really hate these kinds of situations. When we were young, if Rose, Jasper and I had to dress up for a wedding or family event, our parents would inevitably find the three of us halfway up a tree, or in a pond, or eating chocolate cake with a gusto that left it all over our dress clothes. Our parents would pretend to be disapproving, but I saw the twinkle in my mother's eyes while she looked over my scraped knees and grass-stained dresses.

Edward has never been in my room, and I've spent the last week cleaning, considering what each part of it will say about me. I wonder if he did the same when I went to see him the first time. Rose and I flew out to Texas again in September, but it's been almost a month since we've seen them.

I should be obsessing about the moment that his skin is on mine, but the stress is killing my libido. I hope after tonight it will return full force, because he and I only have a few days together and I want to spend most of it naked, wrapped around him.

The boys rent a car, and show up in the late afternoon. My libido doesn't seem to care about dinner after that, and we reunite passionately on my bedroom floor. I'm afraid my knees are going to be bruised, so I opt for nice black pants instead of a skirt.

Edward watches me get dressed, sitting on the edge of my bed clad in only his jeans. When I turn around to get his approval, he makes a face.

"What?" I snap, my nerves returning full force.

"It's just…I thought you were wearing a dress," he says cautiously, probably sensing that I'm feeling a little sensitive right now.

I don't respond, but unbutton the pants angrily and push them down my hips, kicking them off. Stalking back to my closet, I pull off my top and grab a very expensive, conservative, navy blue dress, holding it up on its hanger. "Does this pass approval?" I snipe, glaring at him.

He glances at it and nods, swallowing hard.

He looks unsure and sad. My anger subsides quickly. I'm being awful. I slip on the dress. He stands up to zip it for me and then wraps his arms around me from behind.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. He just gives me a small smile in the mirror and releases me, turning around to unzip the garment bag he hung from my closet door.

It's a suit.

I stare at it for a second, starting to understand, before meeting his eyes. The expression I find there makes me want to burst into tears. He is both a child, desperate to please his father, and the cynical adult that resulted from the denial of that affection. I love each of these parts of him, but feel a hot wave of hatred for the man who put them at war in Edward.

He clears his throat, looking down, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "He likes us to dress 'appropriately'."

I'm about a thousand times more anxious after that.

I slip into Rose's bathroom under the guise of borrowing her flat iron, and find her bottle of Xanax. I hold it in my hand, craving the sweet, floating haze of the pill, but I can't do it. It's not fair, especially to Rose, who will have to endure this completely sober. I quietly replace it and fix my hair. My face is pale and I'm shaky. I swipe on some of Rose's blush and do my hair, all the while willing myself to be strong for all three of them. My nervousness isn't going to help the situation, but neither will popping a pill. I make a decision to only have one glass of wine tonight, so I'm not drifting off for another reason.

We take my Audi. Rose sits up front with Emmett, who drives, and I sit in the back with Edward.

I get a rush of adrenaline as the gates open, and for a second I think I'm going to be sick. Rose turns around just then, meets my eyes and silently assures me that this is going to be okay. I can see that she's a little ruffled, but only because I know her so well. To anyone else, she's the picture of cool confidence.

We get out of the car, adjusting our ensembles, and I suppress a giggle. We look like we're going to a fucking wedding. Rose is getting a small bump on her abdomen, but she chose a dress that hides it completely. The only thing that has really changed about her appearance is that her boobs are bigger. Of course.

The house is huge and I am initially impressed, but I'm not really taken in by material things. This guy is obviously on a whole other level of wealth than we are, but in the end, it's just stuff. Having money doesn't make you happy and it definitely doesn't make you a good person. Emmett Cullen, Sr. seems to be proof of that.

The door swings open as we walk up, and a very young, very beautiful woman is waiting for us with a beatific smile on her face. Irina.

I notice that she doesn't hug the boys, but touches each of their shoulders lightly and briefly. She shakes hands politely with me and then Rose, admiring our dresses and shoes. Total Stepford wife. When she turns to show us in, I can smell alcohol on her breath. How typical, and sad.

Edward puts his hand on the small of my back as we follow her in. I focus on that warm sensation and look up at him. His jaw is clenched, but relaxes when he sees me watching. He exhales a breath he seemed to be holding and whispers in my ear as we enter the living room. "I love you." I mouth the words back to him, and I want to reach up and touch his face, but I don't. I wish we weren't here in this stuffy house in these stuffy clothes.

The view is stunning from our seats in the living room, and for a minute I imagine flinging open the French doors and running out, leaving my shoes discarded on their pristine lawn. I want to pick their flowers and stick them in my hair and quietly undo the stiff tie around Edward's neck. I'll dance my fingers down his shirt, undoing buttons as I go…

"Miss?" I come to, surprised to find that everyone in the room is looking at me expectantly. I must have been daydreaming for longer than I thought. "What can I get you to drink, miss?" The girl asking is wearing a full-on maid costume complete with a little foofy hair band. I feel like I'm in a bad movie.

"White wine, please. Sorry," I apologize quickly. She just nods, her face serious, and leaves the room to get our drinks.

Rose meets my eyes and gives me a private smile. She was probably having the same childish inclination to just grab Emmett's hand and run out of this house.

I try to stay in the conversation after that. I don't want to miss anything.

I quickly abandon the idea that I'm going to have only one cocktail, because the first glass of wine is gone before Mr. Cullen even makes an appearance. For someone who is so obviously concerned with the way things look, I'm surprised by his rudeness. We make small talk about Emmett and Edward's football careers and school and other trivial details of our lives. Irina doesn't ask any questions that would make any of us uncomfortable, and we don't offer up anything of importance, but there's a sense of foreboding in the room.

She guzzles three martinis in the time it takes me to drink two glasses of wine, but doesn't show it at all. She's definitely a woman who can hold her liquor. In most situations I respect that in a fellow female, but not her, and not here.

I know he's coming when, out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward and Emmett stiffen infinitesimally.

His form is large and imposing in the entryway. The boys stand up immediately, pulling Rose and I with them. He doesn't make a move, waiting for us to cross the room to him. His eyes move critically over all four of us, but by the time we reach him he's smiling smugly. He's got the presence of a predator; a shark who smells blood in the water. That said, his picture didn't do him justice.

I glance at Rose. Her face mirrors his and she demurely offers her hand to him, standing just out of his reach.

He's forced to take a small step forward to greet her.

I stifle another nervous laugh, watching his brow furrow as he takes her in, before the complacent mask returns.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cullen. I'm Rosalie Hale," she says, smiling sweetly, her eyes not leaving his. He smiles back, but there's an undercurrent of challenge running between them. He reluctantly breaks her gaze after a few beats, and says hello to his sons stiffly.

I compose myself and shake his hand, introducing myself and complimenting his home. My voice trembles, despite my best efforts, and his smile widens.

_Definitely a shark. _

"Welcome." He pauses, and his eyes flick to Rose, and then to Emmett. "Let's sit." He turns and walks smoothly into the dining room, not once acknowledging his wife. I turn back to get my wine glass, but Edward shakes his head, guiding me to follow Rose and Emmett. Irina trails behind, and I look back to see her gulping down the last of her martini before setting the glass down and joining us.

A different woman takes our drink orders, and she's wearing the same costume that the first one was. I try not to stare, and ask for another glass of wine. Edward and Emmett want scotch, and Rose asks for sparkling water.

Emmett Sr.'s head snaps to Rose, and he glares coldly at her for a split second while she's obliviously arranging her napkin in her lap. I think I'm the only one who sees it.

The drinks are set in front of each of us and Emmett Sr. takes half of his down in two swallows. He takes a deep breath, settling into his chair and turning his attention to Edward.

"So, son." Edward flinches. "Your stats are looking good, but then you haven't played the 'teasips' yet. It's a Heisman shootout, so you'd better be ready." Edward nods stiffly, but doesn't look at him. I truly have no clue what the hell they're talking about. Emmett Sr. points at him, his finger jabbing the air to punctuate his point. "I'm not kidding, Edward. The more I hear _The Eyes of Texas_, the more comes out of your inheritance." He glances at me. "I hope that you aren't distracted from your goals, spending so much time with this…young lady." He gestures towards me with his drink, his voice icy.

I get the distinct feeling that he would have used some more explicit terminology were I not present.

"I'm not entering the combine or the draft, sir." Emmett Sr.'s nostrils flare and his cruel smile returns. "I'm looking at some other options," Edward finishes, quickly bringing his scotch to his lips after the statement. I turn to look disbelievingly at him before reigning in my expression. This is the first I'm hearing of this, and even though I'm not sure what a combine is, I'm aware of the basic concept of the draft. I look at Emmett and Rose. Neither of them seems surprised. We're definitely going to have a conversation about what the hell is going on when we get out of here. I assumed that his intention was to go pro. I try to hide the fact that I'm annoyed.

"And what would these alternative careers be, Edward? Are you harboring some latent talent that I'm not aware of?" he bites out, the maid setting down another glass of scotch in front of him.

She notices Edward and Emmett's empty glasses and goes to bring them another as well. The three of them seem to be drinking really quickly. I've still got a full glass of wine.

"I'm interested in coaching, actually, but thanks for the vote of confidence." He mumbles the last part under his breath.

His father's laugh booms through the room, loud and mean and abrupt.

"Interesting." He leans in, stage-whispering to Edward. "Is that because you can't cut it as a quarterback, or is it really your life's dream to coach people that are better than you?" He sits back in his chair, chuckling. He is seriously one mean motherfucker. In my head, Rose holds his arms back while I knee him in the balls.

Edward doesn't answer. He doesn't do anything.

"Stick to what you're good at, _kid_," I bristle. My dad calls me kid, but it's never sounded so acerbic coming out of his mouth. He's taken what should be a term of endearment and made it sound like an insult. "You know you don't have the grades to warrant getting into any good schools, and I'm not donating a fucking wing to get you into Harvard."

Rose and I share a look. Her calm has finally been disrupted.

Emmett is visibly distressed. His glass of scotch is already almost empty again. I look at Irina for the first time since we sat down. She's probably gone through five martinis since we've been here, but I can't blame her. It's entirely necessary to get drunk to even begin to deal with this asshole. Girl has _got_ to be in it for the money.

"I never wanted to be a doctor," Edward says, staring intensely into his drink.

"No need to draw attention to your lack of ambition, Edward. I've been aware of it since you were a child. In fact, neither of you have ever utilized the resources that our family name could have provided." He looks between Emmett and Edward, his gaze is hard. "Emmett, I hope that you, at least, aren't planning to waste the time you've put into your football career."

Emmett shakes his head, clearing his throat before speaking. "No, sir."

Emmett Sr. doesn't respond to that, turning to Rose instead. "Are you sure you don't want a drink? We had the wine imported from France. Irina only drinks gin, so it would be a shame if it went to waste, since the bottle is already open," he says, indicating my full glass. He tilts his head, and looks very handsome and very demonic in that moment, daring her to say no.

"No, thank you, Mr. Cullen," she replies politely.

"Is there a reason you don't drink? Does alcoholism run in your family?" He asks rudely.

Rose bristles. "No. It doesn't, but I'm fine with water, thank you."

Emmett and Rose agreed that he would be the one to break the news, and apparently she's holding to that, giving Emmett a pointed look. He opens his mouth and closes it. I can see him trying to find the courage to say it. I want to put him out of his misery and scream "She's pregnant!" at the top of my lungs, but I freeze like everything else in the room, waiting. The door to the kitchen swings open a few inches, and then closes slowly and quietly.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Emmett?" Emmett Sr. taunts.

"Rose is pregnant," Emmett finally says, chancing a glance at his father and then gulping his drink.

"Congratulations, Rosalie. Who's the father?" he spits.

Emmett just stares at him. Rose looks like she's going to leap across the table and wrap her hands around Emmett Sr.'s neck. "I am," Emmett says firmly, after a minute.

His glass whips past Irina's head and into a cabinet holding what looks like crystal stemware. Glass shatters behind her, and she looks over her shoulder at it, as if she's seen this before, and doesn't give a shit. She turns back to us and picks up her glass, bringing it to her lips. I decide she's not just drunk; she's on some heavy narcotics, too. I'll take one of those, please and thank you.

Emmett Sr.'s fist hits the table hard, rattling the silverware and knocking over a candlestick. Wax runs across the white tablecloth and the flame goes out, leaving the wick smoking, the line of white rising toward the ceiling the only movement in the room. He pounds his fist down again, this time knocking over my wine glass and sloshing amber liquid out of Emmett and Edward's glasses.

"What the fuck did I tell you, Emmett? What the _fuck_ did I tell you?" he yells, his face different now. Red and bitter; full of rage. I can't see Edward in it any more. It occurs to me that this face matches his true nature, not the one that he wears to pose in photos that people post on the internet.

Emmett stands up abruptly, his chair scraping on the floor loudly. He helps Rose up and gives Edward and me a questioning look, like "Are you with me"? I look at Edward, and he gives me the slightest of nods. I pull my napkin off of my lap, but Emmett Sr.'s voice stops me before I can rise.

"Sit the fuck down," he commands.

"Fuck you," Rose counters, smiling brightly and sarcastically at him. I knew she couldn't help herself. Emmett's eyes widen at her, and then he looks back to me and Edward. We stand.

Emmett turns to face his father, who is breathing heavily, glaring up at him. Rose moves beside Emmett. "You know what I think, sir?" he chokes out, "I think Edward and I are going to be fine, with or without you and our inheritance. And I feel bad for you," he says this sadly, and quietly, "because you don't know us," he shakes his head, "and you won't know your grandchildren."

I can tell he's got a response brewing, but Emmett doesn't give him a chance. "Goodbye," he says, and his face is red like he might cry or hit him…I can't tell, "and when I say goodbye, I mean I don't want to have anything to do with you from now on." The words rush out of his mouth, and as soon as he's done he walks quickly towards the door, clasping Rose's hand tightly. He stops just before exiting, though, not turning around. "Oh, and it's a boy," he adds. I can hear the emotion that he's suppressing. They leave quietly.

I look at Edward. I look at the broken glass behind Irina, and the spilled wine and wax and whiskey. There's nothing good here, but that doesn't mean this will be any easier for either of his sons. I can't even imagine.

When I turn back to Edward Sr. the anger has evaporated, and he's staring at the empty space in front of him. In a practiced movement, he raises his arm and snaps his fingers loudly. The girl appears with another scotch, stepping carefully around the glass. She doesn't give any indication that she notices.

He doesn't look up, but reaches for the drink. His hand shakes minutely, and it's like seeing the soft, fragile underbelly of a serpent. He suddenly looks like an old man, like every harsh word and action is etched into the lines on his face.

I reach over and grab Edward's hand, squeezing it tightly in my own. He watches the man that is his father sit and drink, still staring ahead like we aren't there. "Bye…dad," he whispers, and when his father doesn't respond, he uses his free hand to wipe away a tear and gently guides me out of this hell into the cool dusk. Rose is sitting in the driver's seat leaning over Emmett, who has his face in his hands. His shoulders shake, and my eyes blur over. I hold Edward's hand the whole way home, rubbing my thumb in slow circles. I don't try to talk to him. He doesn't make a sound, staring out the window, but the one time that he looks at his big brother, whose position hasn't changed, he turns his head away quickly. I have to fight against the choking feeling in my throat.

Alice and Jasper are just hanging out. They weren't expecting us for hours. The four of us walk in slowly and they take us in, the boys' red eyes and the uncharacteristic slump in Emmett's posture. Jasper goes and gets a bottle of Patron and pours five shots, making Rose's a pineapple juice.

We raise them in the air, and Emmett looks at each of us, his voice cracking, "To my family."

The rest of the night is quiet. We order in, as we didn't actually get to eat dinner, but we scatter shortly after eating; none of us are in the mood to talk. Edward and I lay facing each other in my bed. I don't ask him questions or make him talk about how he's feeling. Instead, I read to him from a story I've been writing for the last few months. It's about boats and water and sunshine.

Years later I'll realize that this was the last time I'd ever see Emmett or Edward drink scotch until the day of their father's funeral. Even then it's just one glass, and it's not done with any enjoyment, it's like their own form of a eulogy. Emmett Sr. does meet his grandchildren once before his passing, in the private hospital suite where he lays dying from stomach cancer. Even then, he doesn't tell them that he loves them, even after the words leave each of their mouths.

The next few months pass slowly, but are really good.

Rose's belly is getting big, and she spends most of her time in Texas. Edward bought a house for the two of us, and Rose and Emmett are getting the baby's room ready in the loft. They intend to buy a house when they settle down, but aren't sure what team Emmett will end up playing for yet.

The closer the wedding gets, the more I'm embroiled in the details. Normally it would be Rose who would take care of the major decisions, but with her gone, it's me, and I'm surprised at my enthusiasm for the event planning.

Mike and I reconnect, and he comes with Alice and me to fittings for her dress and to the printers who are doing the invitations. This all serves to reinforce the bond between us. I don't know if this will make it any easier to leave, but I want to spend every second with one of them. Alice and I get especially close. We spend a lot of time pulling pranks on each other. I think in some ways it's a response to the stress of moving on and becoming actual adults. The rest is just the pure joy of seeing one of your best friends almost piss her pants because you put a hairy rubber spider in her left slipper.

Sometimes I catch her and Jasper in an embrace that makes my eyes water with its sweetness, and I try not to think about the fact I'll be separated from the two of them in a short time. I also try not to think about how much that makes me miss Edward.

When I finally figure out how to use Skype, some parts of our separation get a little easier. I can see his face when we talk; watch his fingers rub his forehead in frustration, or run across his jaw line when he's thinking. Most importantly, I can see him smile.

It's December, and the longing to just touch him is almost unbearable. It's a very real, physical craving. There are nights when I almost don't want to see him because I know I'm going to have to get myself off multiple times to keep from letting the ache overtake me. We haven't seen each other in two weeks, and by the time we get to the lake it will have been three more. I'm going to be a shaking, quivering mess by the time I finally feel his hands on me.

I'm packing the few things I have in the kitchen, and Alice is helping me. Jasper is sitting at the counter drinking a beer and watching football, chiming in occasionally. I seem to have an Edward-specific football interest, but I've been trying to expand my knowledge of the game. Of course, most of the time the questions I ask send Jasper and Mike into hysterics. Fuckers.

Alice can tell I'm suffering, and she's spent the last few days taunting me. She stands in front of me holding a mixing bowl, looking at me expectantly.

"Where do you want this? Do you want me to just _put it in your box_?" She says the last part slowly and suggestively, nodding to the cardboard square in front of me.

"You know, not everything is an opportunity for sexual innuendo," I respond, glaring at her while I wrap newspaper around dishes I will never use. I'm a little testy today.

"We both know that's not true, Bella," Alice smiles, and then continues with her teasing, looking down at the bowl again. "I just don't know if it'll fit. Your box is getting _really full," _she continues, looking into it and shaking her head, "I don't know if _your box_ can handle any more-"

"Alice," Jasper whines, probably grossed out by the numerous references to my vagina. Alice just rolls her eyes.

"Seriously, woman. It's already torture without you making every moment of my day into soft-core porn," I complain.

She laughs, grinning at me. "Jasper's going to make an honest woman out of me soon, so I've got to get my kicks while I can." It's my turn to do the eye-rolling. "So I assume you're taking matters into your own hands…if you know what I'm saying," she raises her eyebrows at me.

"Dude. Alice. Gross." Jasper groans, while Alice and I giggle.

"I mean, I get why you're all…tense like you are, but I know you guys are online all the time, so I refuse to believe that you aren't getting some sort of action."

Jasper gets up. "That, ladies, would be my cue," he smiles, shaking his head and goes to watch the rest of the game in the living room. Alice and I keep our voices down after we stop laughing.

"We video chat, but I don't see how that would alleviate my problem," I say, starting to pack dishes again.

She's silent, and I look up. She's just looking at me like she's waiting for something to dawn on me.

"Oh. Ohhhhh," I say as I get it. "Yeah I'm so not into that. I doubt Edward is either." Even as the words come out of my mouth I know they're not true.

She studies me for a moment. "You are too. I can tell. You're blushing!"

I open my mouth and close it. If I speak, I will blush harder.

"I suggest a striptease to break the ice. Don't warn him or anything. Just turn on music and start taking it all off." She mimes taking off a pair of long gloves and blows me a kiss.

"If you start actually stripping I'm telling Jasper."

"Don't be such a fucking prude, B! For the love of god, get naked for your hot boyfriend!"

"I'm not a prude, you whore! I'll just feel stupid." I shrug. I want to do it so bad, but I'm not sure if I can pull it off. I'm confident, but it's a whole lot different to have the ability to touch someone. Without that sensation, it's all aural and visual, and while I like being able to have the connection with him for conversation, for _this_ I'm afraid it would get awkward. The fact that I'm being this euphemistic in my head only underlines my anxiety.

"Rose probably has something you could borrow…" she starts.

"I am so not putting on some crazy lingerie. I'll never be able to get it off, and it will really be a mood killer if you need to come get me out of a garter belt in the middle of it." We crack up.

"But you're gonna do it?" she asks. She can tell I'm wavering.

I shrug. She smiles knowingly. Such a bitch. Love her.

After a minute she holds up a rolling pin and cocks her head to the side, considering it. She opens her mouth to speak but I cut her off.

"Yes, Alice. I think that will fit in my box."

Two nights later I get the cajones to do it. I'm nervous, but it's far outweighed by my need.

I'm wearing lacy blue boy shorts and a black camisole. I decide that simple is probably best. I have a song picked out. I'm ready, and I mean _I'm ready_. My skin is flushed, my heartbeat fast and my breathing shallow. I think if he doesn't like it I won't care, because one way or another, I'm getting off, and he's watching.

He's running a little late, so I write while I'm waiting. I've become quite the erotic poet. I can't seem to get enough of the adjectives _taut, hard, pink and supple_.

When the little box pops up on the laptop screen and starts ringing, I jump up and sit in front of the computer, answering the call.

"Hey, baby," he says slowly, with a smile. He looks sleepy, and fresh out of the shower. He's got a bottle of beer in one hand, and he's leaning back in his chair. He's shirtless. I touch my neck, wishing it was his skin under my fingertips.

"I want to crawl through the screen and climb on top of you so bad right now," I breathe out, squirming in my chair. The slightest pressure feels good. He's taking a sip of beer while I say this, and the bottle stills at his lips. His eyes widen, and he swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yeah?" he hedges cautiously, still smiling.

We don't really talk like this. I mean, we do, but it's in the heat of passion. I feel a little dirty, but I think I like it. At least I like his reaction.

"I don't want to talk about how my day was. I don't want to talk about school or the move or the wedding. I want you to watch me." He sits up a little, his mouth hanging open a little, eyes glazed.

"Okay," he whispers reverently. I think I've got his attention.

I have to stand up to turn on the music, and I hear him suck in a breath.

"You like?" I ask as the song starts, looking down and pulling at the lace at the hem of the boy shorts.

"Fuck," he whispers, the word clipped. His chest rises and falls rapidly and he licks his lips.

I adjust the screen so he can see me, and the bed, and just…dance. I dance like I would if I were listening to this song alone in my room; eyes closed and hair everywhere. I tease the shirt up my stomach, peeking up occasionally to watch him grip the bottle of beer, his forearm straining.

I lift the cami over my head when I'm faced away from him, dropping it from my fingers and taking my time turning around. When I do, I like what I find. He's standing up, shaky hands fumbling with his belt, finally getting it off and kicking off his jeans. His boxer briefs are barely containing him, and I instinctively move closer. He palms himself once, groaning, and then sits down and I can see his face again. He's got bright spots of color on his cheeks and his still-damp hair is standing up in parts.

I put the tips of my fingers under the waistband of the boy shorts, pulling them down an inch. He moans. I go slower.

I have a brief moment of panic when I'm totally naked, but I go with it, sitting on the edge of the bed and running my hands over my skin, gasping when I graze over my tits and rubbing my hands up and down my thighs.

The song changes, but I made a mix so it doesn't upset the vibe. It makes it better. I know what I have to do next, and take a minute to steel myself. I spread my legs very slowly. A "Fuuuuuck," escapes from his lips. I have to bite my lip to keep from saying something really embarrassing. I alternate between his lustful stare and watching myself on screen. I'm not going to last long at this rate.

He stands up again, this time carefully pulling his boxer briefs over his swollen dick and off. He grabs it for me, running his thumb over the tip and exhaling loudly. Every muscle in his stomach is tight and straining.

He sits down. "I want to see," I pout, and he nods quickly, moving his laptop and sitting back so I can watch him stroke up and down, muscles tensing and releasing rhythmically.

I prop one leg up, leaning back on one arm. I spread my legs wider. At this point, I'm so close that if I tense the wrong muscle I'm going to come. I adjust the pressure of my fingers so I can hold off.

I imagine the smooth, hot, solid heat of his cock in my mouth, and the look he gets on his face while he looks down at me. The tension of his jaw, and his big, rough hands on my hips, his thumbs digging into the flesh under my hipbones while he fucks me. I watch him now, and want him everywhere on my body, and I want to be everywhere on his.

"I want to watch you come," I moan out before I can stop myself, and he does.

"Oh, fuck, B." I watch his mouth drop open and he comes all over his chest and stomach. I'm right there with him, thinking of his mouth. It's better than any jilling off I've done in the last few months. I fall back on the bed after, and I can hear him breathing. When I look up, he's still sitting in the same position, his head thrown back. He's still catching his breath. I get the giggles.

His head flies up. "What?" he looks down. "Oh. Yeah." He chuckles and sits up, grabbing a towel and cleaning himself up. I get up and sit in the chair at my desk but don't get dressed. We talk for a long time after that, about why we haven't done this before and how we're going to do it every night. He stares at my tits. I start planning outfits and positions and playlists.

It gets me through the last few weeks, and even though it's really hard to be away from him, I think this makes our sex life even better. I learn to say things that I haven't been able to say before, and I learn to say them without blushing. I learn to tell him what I want. I don't rely on my mouth and my hands; I rely on my creativity and my words.

Alice smiles smugly when she figures out that we did it. I don't even mind, because she was right, and the ache has abated a just a little bit.

I'm so busy the week before we leave that I don't have much time to talk, and the time flies by. I box up everything I own and send it to our house in Texas, where I'll arrive with Edward after the holidays.

Jasper, Rose, Alice, Mike and I have one final dinner all together in the house before we go. We watch _Half Baked_, smoke weed and have Abba-Zabba for dessert.

I'm going to miss this place, but I'm so ready for everything that's coming that there aren't tears when I walk out the door for the last time. I want it all, and it looks like I might finally get it.

**Next chapter is the last. I will cry. **

**Thank you all so much for reading. Holy shit. If you read, review or talk shit to me on twitter, you already know that I would be happy to know every single one of you. Come find me (at)sweetlolapop I talk shit all day long. Ask anyone.**

**xoxo**


	25. ShangriLa

**I'm going to miss this so much. I appreciate the support and love that this story has recieved so very much. I read each review. I look at your profiles when you put me in your faves (I know! Stalker!). I love to chat with you all on twitter. I've been brought to tears by the warmth, humor and positivity in this fandom, and I'll have you know that in RL I'm not much of a crier.**

**I have many thanks to give. I'll do that in the endnote, except to thank my betas Momma Bear and LouderThanSirens, who have been unfailingly honest and patient with me while I work out my neurotic BS. You guys are the shit and that's no lie.**

**I'm offering an outtake for FGB! Links are on my profile. Also, there's a link to my twitter there. My account is locked, but I'll add you if you request. Don't be scurred. I'm a friendly kind of gal. **

**Alright I'll wrap this up before I say something else that is gonna make me slap my forehead later. T****his is the last chapter. Epilogue to follow...because apparently I _can't stop_. **

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Edward

It took me a long time to figure out that the responsibility to make my relationship with Bella work is half mine. It turns out it's really simple. All she needs is to know is that she's the only one. It doesn't hurt if everyone else knows that too, so I make it so obvious that it embarrasses her sometimes. Even when she protests, I don't back off. I guess maybe I need people to know just as much as she does.

While most of my friends warmed up to Bella right away, others didn't. Some guys really cling to the whole _bros before hos _thing. I understand it, but I just don't want to be around someone who doesn't get why I'm with her, because that means they don't get me.

We spend most of our time with Emmett and Rose. On Emmett's birthday in March, he gets his first check from the trust; the trust that he and I were both sure was no longer available to us. B and I show up at the loft that afternoon to take him and Rose out to dinner, and they're standing at the counter, staring at the piece of paper that represents his portion of our legacy.

I try not to be affected when I see what it is, but it means something. Not that our father loves us or is even proud of us, but that he acknowledges that we're his sons. It's more than I've come to expect from him. Of course, this doesn't mean that I'll get mine.

Emmett and I don't really talk about it, but I think both of us are in the same place. I don't want to see my father in myself. He's never said it, but I think Em regrets his reaction to Rose's pregnancy more than anything he's ever done. He's made up for it, though. He is finally in a position where he can be the caretaker, and he really tries.

The last month that Rose is pregnant is the hardest. She's uncomfortable and really fucking bitchy, but the tough part is the waiting. She's almost a week past her due date when they decide to induce.

He's born on April 3rd.

Seth. Seth Hale Cullen. This kid owns me. I've never really been around babies before, but after Emmett shows me how to hold him properly and how to support his neck, I never want to put him down. Sometimes when I hold him he just stares at me, his tiny fist curled around my finger, and I feel like he knows who I am. I dub him "small man" and I try to be cool about it, but I find myself wanting to be wherever he is. I'm there the first time he smiles. He hasn't really stopped since.

Watching Bella hold my nephew changes something in me. She whispers to him a lot, but I can never hear what she says.

I realize that I want kids. I dance around the topic with Bella. I'm not sure how she'll react, so I just sit back, content to see her with a baby in her arms, and hope that it means that someday she'll want to have mine.

At the end of the semester we pack and get ready to leave for the summer. I had no idea that one tiny person could have so much shit. We have to take two cars to the airport. With his trust in effect, Em booked a private plane for our flight. Rose scoffed at first, but gave in when he pointed out that this is Seth's first flight, and they don't know how he'll react.

We get here and settle in quickly. The first thing we do is bring Seth to see Mrs. Mallory. Her fridge is already covered with pictures of him that Rose and Bella have been sending her. She started a college fund for him even before he was born. We make sure that she gets to see him almost every day.

Jasper and I, the proud uncles that we are, try to teach him to high five and fist bump. Jasper makes playlists for him, trying to jump start his musical education. We find out early on that the kid loves James Brown and will bounce his chubby little legs excitedly whenever we put it on.

The weeks go so fast that I'm surprised when I realize that it's July. Soon the family starts arriving for the Fourth. Everyone's here. The last time we were all together was for Jasper and Alice's wedding over Christmas. Carlisle officiated, and Bella and I stood by Alice, Rose and Em mirroring us on the other side next to Jasper. When they said their vows, which Bella wrote, she squeezed my hand too tight. She doesn't let me read her work often, just a page here and there, so I listened hard to every word. I wish I could remember each one.

Seth's in high demand with the whole family around, and my mom finds a way to hold him most of the time. She's the only person I won't fight with for his attention. I don't think I've ever seen her happier.

Charlie shows up on the afternoon of the Fourth. When he got here, he shook my hand and greeted me by name. Bella teared up before she went into the kitchen to grab him a beer. I think he's warming up to me.

I don't feel like I'm just getting through life anymore. I sometimes want it to pause so I can enjoy it for a little longer. I want every minute. I watch Bella scribble in her notebooks and type on her laptop, and I know that she's recording it all for me.

For all of us.

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Bella

My dad got here this afternoon. It's the Fourth of July, and Rose has been bossing all of us around for two days; Seth in one arm and the other pointing at what needs to be moved, organized or set up. Inevitably she ends up handing him off and doing things herself, not that any of us complain. She seems relieved to be running the show again. The only thing she and Emmett really fought about while she was pregnant was that she needed more rest.

The Fourth is the same as every year, but as with most things we do now, it's a little tamer. We have dinner, then go to the bonfire and shoot off fireworks, but it's an early night, which is definitely a change from how we usually celebrate this holiday. We all thought that Seth might be afraid of the fireworks, but he seems to take after his dad, staring up at the sky in awe. I would give anything to see what he sees for only a second.

After Rose and Emmett go back to their cabin, everyone splits off. Edward and I end up hanging out with my dad. I'm hot and sticky from the day, so I take a quick shower to cool off.

When I come out, Edward is doubled over laughing and my dad is wiping his eyes. They're talking about fishing. They both down a fair amount of beers, and I drink cocktails that Edward makes me. Their guffaws resound around the room. I don't join in the conversation too much; I just listen to my dad tell the stories that I could recite word for word and let Edward get to know him while I write in my journal.

I finally get tired, and stand up, yawning, just as their laughter is dying down again. "Alright boys, I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"I'm gonna stay up for a while. See you kids in the morning," my dad says, still chuckling a little from his last anecdote. Edward walks behind me into the kitchen, but when I try to pull him towards my room, he won't budge. Charlie pretends he isn't paying attention, but the pages of the fishing magazine he picked up stop turning.

"Walk me out?" Edward asks quietly. I scoff. We've lived in the same house and shared a bed for the last six months. Charlie obviously knows this, and hasn't really said anything to indicate that he disapproves…exactly. I don't think he's thrilled that we're living together and aren't married, but he seems to understand that times have changed, and that this is a good, solid relationship.

"Goodnight, sir," he says to Charlie as we walk out. I wonder when he's going to drop the formal act with him. I hate it, because I know where it comes from. My dad raises a hand in a lazy salute, keeping his eyes on his magazine. I can tell there's a smile hidden under his bushy mustache.

_Nice, dad._

Edward and I stand close together and lean against the railing, looking out towards the water. People are still partying. The big fireworks are long gone, but I can still here the whistle and pop of bottle rockets and bursts of laughter echoing across the lake.

"So you're sneaking in later, right?" I ask, assuming that he will.

He shakes his head.

"What? Why?" I whisper, surprised.

He rubs the back of his neck, pausing before he speaks. "Look, I just want your dad to trust me and know that I respect him. And…I want him to actually like me." He shrugs, and I can see that he's a little uncomfortable admitting it. It's really fucking cute.

I think it's unnecessary, but I concede. I look down at our intertwined hands. "We haven't slept apart in…"

"I know." The insecurity that would have flooded me last summer doesn't come.

"I'm going to miss waking up to your face," he says. I swoon at the sweetness of that comment, and take a second to recognize that even though we spend every day together, the man can still make me melt.

A soft cry cuts through the air from Rose's cabin. Seth. We smile at each other. I can't get over seeing Edward's reaction to his nephew. The first time he picked him up I think my ovaries went into overdrive. We haven't spent a lot of time talking about kids, but the sight of him, his big arms cradling the tiny bundle carefully …there aren't even words.

We part for the night without sadness, but with longing. I watch him disappear down the steps and into the darkness and go back inside, shutting the screen door quietly behind me.

I walk up behind my dad and plant a kiss on the top of his head.

He looks up, and his eyes are shiny. "I love you, kid."

We don't say this to each other very often. Not because we don't mean it, but because displays of affection embarrass him. I don't know why he says it now, or why he's got tears in his eyes, but it doesn't matter.

"I love you too, dad."

True to his word, Edward doesn't sneak into my room that night. I dream of this place and wake up smiling.

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EPOV

I should be nervous, but I'm not.

It's early. I didn't sleep well alone in my bed, so I'm out on Bella's deck waiting for her in my usual spot.

Charlie left to go fishing about an hour ago. He grinned and told me I could go inside before he walked down to the boat, but I opted to stay out here and watch the sunrise.

I quit smoking when Seth was born, but times like this make me really want a cigarette. I spent a lot of time smoking and looking at this lake. The nostalgia factor kept me doing it for a long time, though, and I had to let it go. I don't want to set a bad example for Seth when he gets old enough to understand that kind of stuff. Just the thought of my small man picking up bad habits from me makes my stomach ache with guilt.

Guilt. It's probably the worst emotion I've ever felt. I'm trying to let go of things I've done in the past, but some still eat away at me. There are things that I still don't like to think about.

There are some that I have to work through and own now, though, because they made me what I am, and they formed this relationship, however fucked up its beginnings were.

The fifth of July. This isn't the first time I've run through this in my head, but I generally try to skim over the details. I close my eyes and remember everything.

_I can't sleep, because I tasted her blood and her skin and I pulled away from her, even though I wanted to fuck her on the counter next to the limes she was cutting. _

_But I know how this is going to go. _

_She'll end up with all these fucking feelings, and even if I want to, I won't be able to feel them back. I'll get bored and I'll be ready to leave by the end of the summer, or maybe even before that. She'll call and I'll ignore her. Emmett will be pissed. I'll probably never come back here after that._

_I'm drinking a beer and smoking on the deck of my cabin, restless. At three thirty I give up and walk out onto the sand with my half-empty beer in hand. The lake is totally still, the moon reflecting almost perfectly in the water. I watch it, and wish that I were somewhere else. It's too quiet here. I want to be able to ignore this shit. I feel…fuck, I _feel_ and that's enough to make me want to blow my brains out._

_The water ripples, the moon fractures and spreads._

_There's someone swimming out from the beach, it's a girl, I can tell, but all I can see is an outline of a form cutting through the water. She gets past the floating dock and turns onto her back, floating._

_I walk away from my cabin towards the girl, and when I get to the spot where she dropped her clothes and towel, I pick up the t-shirt. It's Bella._

_FuckfuckfuckFUCK._

_I need to get out of here, so I walk back the way I came, but halfway there, I stop and drain my beer. I wind up and throw it hard into the woods. It doesn't break, though, so it's not satisfying. I'm pissed. She shouldn't tempt me. Not someone like me. She's going to regret this._

_I'm really fucking myself here, but I can't stop._

_I walk back, pulling my t-shirt off as I go and toss it down next to her clothes. I leave my jeans in a pile and wade in carefully. She still doesn't know I'm here, and I don't really want to scare her, so I splash the water a little and she pops up, one hand over her tits._

_The moon's behind her and I can't see her face, but I know she can see mine. When she's close enough to touch me and I can see her eyes, I'm not angry anymore. I'm fucking sad. _

_I'm gonna do this. Even though I know it's her first time and that doing it in the water sucks. I'm gonna do it even though I know I can't really have her._

_I reach my hand out, knowing she'll take it. I look down at her fingers interlaced with mine and don't move, because this is the last chance I have to walk away from what I'm about to do. I can tell she thinks this is the beginning, but really, this is kind of the end._

_She starts to stay something, but I meet her eyes and she stops. She's nervous. So I kiss her the way I've wanted to since I first saw her. I wonder how far she's gone; how inexperienced she really is. _

_When I pull her up to wrap her legs around me, I can feel her slick against my cock, wetter than the water surrounding us. I stop. She's shaking a little, and I almost pull her off of me and leave her there, but she grabs my dick and I ask her if she's on the pill instead._

_And then I stop thinking and do what I know I can do for her. _

_She's tight, and I can tell I'm the first. I rub her where she needs me to, and I angle her so I'm hitting the right spots. I hold off until she starts clenching around me and I know she's going to come. I kiss her after, and fight the urge to fucking run._

_I will fight that urge until I make her run instead. _

I finish that thought with my head in my hands. I shouldn't let myself relive this shit, but the date is echoing through my head. I would give anything to take it back.

The way I thought then…it makes me sick. I could have lost her. I did lose her. But here I am, waiting on this deck like the lovesick fuck that I am, waiting for the girl that I love to come rescue me from myself. This is what we do now. We own our shit and move past it. I want to change what this date means. Not for me, but for her. Because if I have every detail of that burned into my brain, I can only imagine that it's a whole shitload more vivid for her.

She comes out at 7:30, all cute in one of my big hooded sweatshirts over little shorts. Her eyes are still half-closed, and she blinks like a cat in the sun, stretching her arms over her head.

I get up from the chair and kiss her lips, pulling back to look at her. She's got pillow marks on her cheek and her hair is…the way it looks every morning; like she just got done having sex. A lot of mornings, that's true.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "You look all emo."

I probably do. She doesn't know what's about to happen, so the misunderstanding of my facial expression doesn't surprise me.

"Nothing. I just want to get this right," I answer. She frowns.

"Get what right?"

When I drop to one knee, she looks confused. When I reach in my pocket and pull out the box, her eyes widen and one hand flies to her mouth.

My hands are steady. I honestly thought they would shake while I did this, but I've never been more certain of anything in my life.

I take the ring out carefully and hold it between my fingers. Her eyes are watering when I look up at her. I open my mouth to ask her, but she cuts me off.

"Is this really happening?" she whispers, tears in her eyes. I have to smile, because it's so like her to interject something at a moment like this.

I answer with the question that I've been wanting to ask her since I realized that she is all there is for me.

She says yes.

BPOV

I'm not a girl who has ever owned much jewelry, and neither was my mother, so aside from the necklace that I take out on special occasions, I don't wear any.

But I know that I like the thought of this ring being part of me. Even when I take everything else off of my body, it will lie close to my skin.

He will lie close to my skin.

I don't have the right words. He stands in front of me with his hands on my face, a huge smile on his lips, wiping away my tears and kissing me softly.

"I love you so fucking much."

His smile gets bigger and he laughs. "I love you, too. So fucking much."

We decide to skip coffee at my place and go to Rose's to tell everyone, but I want to wait for my dad. He doesn't get back until around 8:30. I figure out that he knew when he walks in, looks at our expressions and then his eyes move quickly to my ring finger.

I raise an eyebrow at each of them. My dad just shrugs. Edward mimics his movement. I try to imagine that conversation, but can't. I'll have to get details later.

My dad's smile is huge and genuine, even though I can tell he's trying to rein it in, his mustache twitching. He shakes Edward's hand, clapping him awkwardly on the shoulder. For a second I'm afraid they're going to attempt some sort of uncomfortable man hug, but they don't. "Hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into with this one, kid," my dad says, nodding at me.

"I think I can handle it, sir," he answers, grinning.

"Call me Charlie, Edward," my dad answers, patting his shoulder again before turning to me. When we hug, I look over my dad's shoulder at Edward, who's watching us with sadness and hope plain on his face. I know he's thinking about his own father, and I think he's realizing that he can have one in mine.

As always, we celebrate with champagne and hugs at Rose's. Esme hugs me so hard that I can't breathe, and when I finally open my eyes, Edward is watching us, but this time there isn't even a hint of sadness in his expression. I have to fight to keep from sobbing into her shoulder.

We spend the day on the beach and in the water playing with Seth. Carlisle insists upon getting us all together for a group photo that afternoon. It takes about eight tries to get one where someone isn't blinking or Emmett isn't making inappropriate hand gestures, but the resulting photo will be one that I look back on often throughout the years. It will remind me of everything good in my life.

The whole day is full of wholesome family fun, but by the end of it I'm restless in my skin. I need to touch him, but it's tough with everyone here. We don't really have anywhere to go to be totally alone.

When it gets late and he gets up off of the couch where we're hanging out with Charlie, I follow him out onto the deck again and practically attack him, pushing my hips into his and clutching at his shirt while I kiss him. I know he's not going to stay, but I can say without a doubt that I want him more than I have ever wanted him. He whispers perfect words into my ear before he walks down the stairs, and I'm left aching and very awake.

I make it until 2am. I haven't snuck out of my cabin since I was a teenager, and that was to drink stolen beers with Rose and Jasper in the boathouse. It's not even really sneaking out now, but I like the thrill of tiptoeing through the living room, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I exhale in relief when I close the door silently behind me and then roll my eyes at myself.

My ring glints in the moonlight while I walk down the beach to the Cullen's. They have a few dim lights on inside, and the side door is unlocked when I reach it. His room is dark, but I can see enough to get to the bed and crawl in, where he's sprawled out on his stomach in his boxer briefs.

"Baby," he mumbles, rolling on his side and pulling me towards him. He wakes a little more after a second. "What are you doing here?" he whispers into my hair, his hands hot and roaming over my body, almost unconsciously.

"I couldn't sleep," I answer, writhing in his grasp. I don't want my thin t-shirt between us, but before I can take it off, he's under it, running his palms up my stomach, finding all of the sweet spots on my body that make me gasp. He pulls my shorts and underwear down in one motion and I shift my leg up onto his hip, grasping at the fabric covering him until he's free and pushing into me slowly.

"I couldn't…wait," I say breathlessly, holding on to his shoulder for leverage and pushing against him, feeling his muscles tense and relax. We don't break our stare, and I watch him struggle to keep his eyes open when he comes right after me. We lay there until our breathing slows, my palm resting on his cheek.

"The fifth of July," he says quietly after a minute, reaching up to cover my hand with his, his fingers lingering over the ring.

"Technically, it's the sixth," I correct him, smiling. He laughs, pulling my face to his and kissing me slowly. I start to drift off after a few minutes, but his hushed voice wakes me up.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to have kids?"

The question throws me off a little, as does his tone of voice. He sounds unsure and uncharacteristically shy. "Yes. I do," I answer honestly.

His answering grin is automatic, but fades after a moment. "Do you think I'll be a good dad?"

A tear streaks down my face and onto the pillow. "I think you'll be the best dad ever."

I fall asleep wrapped up in a man that has made me cry, laugh, and love harder than anyone else ever has.

I'm lucky. I'm blessed. I'm complete.

Everything feels right.

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**Tried to wrap that up in a nice, tight little package for you. All together now..."That's what she said."**

**Thanks to RoseArcadia for being one of the first to read and rec, and for just generally being unafraid to back a story which had many people wanting to find and kill me around the chapter 7 mark. This fandom owes you a lot. Thanks to jajo, my twilighted beta, for catching things that I don't, and for forcing Rose to do my banner in the first place. Hee. Kisses. Thanks to BelleDean for listening to me bitch endlessly, and not making me feel like a jerk. We are two of a kind. **

**Many, many, many thanks to stephk0525, without whom I wouldn't be retaining my sanity at this point. She has talked me through lemons, drama and Texas football. You are a joy to know, bb. I love you very much.**

**To everyone who has pimped my story...wanna make out? Tweet me if that's a yes. I want to start naming names but this would end up being the epic endnote end all endnotes, and I'll feel the need to thank each of you individually. Wish I could have you all over for drinks, though. **

**Thank you for reading. I'm going to go shed a tear or two. **

**xo**

**lola**


	26. Epilogue

**It's the Fifth of July. I couldn't think of a better day to post. The significance of the date hasn't escaped my notice, or yours, apparently. This makes me want to give each and every one of you a long, lingering, lola hug. **

**My betas LouderThanSirens and Momma Bear deserve much credit for this entire fic. Thank you, my loves.**

**This one is for stephk0525**.

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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When I say my vows, he watches with an awed expression while I recite the words that I wrote for him.

When I give birth to our first son, his hand gripping mine is the only thing that keeps me grounded.

When my dad gets sick and moves in with us, he makes sure he gets the best care available. I often find him in the chair next to Charlie's bed retelling stories about fishing on the lake; reminding him of the now legendary fish they caught together over the years.

Edward is, as I predicted, a wonderful father and husband. He loves coaching, and even though he did receive the money from the trust, I know he will continue working for a long time because football is in his blood.

Every summer we return to the lake, and most things here don't change. Our kids play together in the sand that we ran around in when we were kids.

Mrs. Mallory passed away after our second son was born. She left her cabin and the Bel-Air to Jasper and Alice, who live there during the summers. The two of them found out that they couldn't conceive about a year after getting married, and a few years later are able to adopt their daughter Chloe. She's joined at the hip with our oldest son Jack. Our youngest, Charlie, follows Seth everywhere. Jasper, Emmett and Edward teach them to tune up cars. Rose, Alice and I teach them to cannonball off the dock. I read to them from the notebooks that tell our whole lives.

Things aren't always ideal; we're scattered across the country and don't get to see each other enough, but every year in June we convene here and it's the same bliss that I remember.

Esme and Carlisle are up for the week, but went to bed when the kids did. They never married, but I've never seen two people more content to just be together. They spend a lot of time traveling around to visit all of us, and the kids call them Grams and Gramps.

Most nights after the kids are asleep we have drinks on one of our decks. Tonight the kids are having a sleepover in Rose's living room and fell asleep about an hour ago.

We're reliving our past antics, failing to keep our voices low, but I'm laughing so hard that I can't tell everyone to shut up. Alice is talking about the time the boys got arrested.

"And all because Bella got finge-" She claps a hand over her mouth mid-sentence, holding back laughter while she raises a few inches out of her seat to look in the window at the kids. Chloe is at the age where she repeats everything she hears, and I don't think any of us want her asking all summer what that means.

She sits back down when she sees they're still asleep, and continues in a whisper. "All because Bella got _fingered_ by some kid when she was fifteen!" They laugh and I grimace, because the word 'fingered' is disgusting. Edward stiffens beside me.

I turn to him incredulously. "Are you seriously still pissy about that? I _married_ you. I gave birth to your beautiful children. I am your doting wife. I cook and clean and do your laundry…"

He throws his head back, laughing. I don't attempt to quiet him. It's too wonderful to watch him lost in the moment. "You do _not_ cook, woman. At least, not well."

I cross my arms over my chest in mock anger. "Whatever."

His hands wrap around my waist, and his lips are at my ear. He tickles me and goose bumps break out on my skin while I try to squirm out of his grasp, giggling.

"If you guys are gonna get all frisky, please do it elsewhere. Gross," Rose says, making a face.

Edward and I stop and look at her, still pressed together. "Seriously?" we say in unison. Rose and Emmett have been known to get quite creative about finding time to be intimate. I still can't walk into the boathouse without checking to make sure no one is inside and…naked.

Rose rolls her eyes, and the rest of us crack up loudly.

Chloe appears in the doorway, her ponytail is falling out and she's clutching a stuffed rabbit in one small fist.

Jasper gets up and opens the screen door, scooping her up. "Can't you sleep, baby?" he asks, bringing her out to curl up on his lap.

"Uncle Em is too loud," she chirps, looking at him accusingly.

"Sorry, munchkin," Emmett grins at her, opening his arms. She hops down from her dad's lap and into Emmett's. She lays sideways across his lap, leaning against his broad chest. He unconsciously rubs circles on her back. Like Edward, he's a natural with kids.

We continue our conversation quietly. Rose sneaks inside to grab another bottle of wine and a few beers for the guys.

Chloe falls asleep again quickly and Alice picks her up gently to bring her back inside.

When the drinks are refilled and we're all back in our seats, I let the quiet sink in for a moment. The air is cooling off as it gets darker, and the wine is making me nostalgic.

"Remember that first summer with all of us here?" I smile thinking about how young we were. "I miss…" I can't finish the sentence, swallowing hard. My dad died this year, and it's still hard for me grasp that he isn't going to pull up on his boat any minute. We didn't have enough time. He didn't have enough time with his grandkids, and the thought still chokes me up.

Edward's arm tightens around me, and I can see all of their faces register that I'm thinking about my dad. It wasn't easy for any of us, losing Charlie or Mrs. Mallory. It's a sign that time is marching on, and even though things are good, we're still aware that we're truly the adults here now. We've loved and lost, all together, and we now have people who depend on us just as much as we depended on our parents.

"Charlie would have loved today," Jasper says quietly, looking up. It's a little overcast, the sun is below the trees and the sky is layered with stripes of pink and purple. It was cool this morning and the boys said the fishing was excellent.

We nod. He would have.

I wallow in it for a moment, and then try to lighten the mood. "Remember the time we made the boys cannonball naked?"

"Mrs. M had those binoculars glued to her face!" Emmett laughs, before Rose clamps her hand over his mouth. Our quiet laughter sounds back to us from the lake.

"God, you guys, it was all such a long time ago, but sometimes I still feel like I'm sixteen years old," Rose says, smiling wistfully.

"Cheers to that," I say, smiling and tucking myself in closer to Edward.

We raise our glasses, and all of our eyes meet, as is our tradition. "To family."

I look around as the chatter resumes, and admire the people that have made my life good.

Edward meets my eyes, and kisses me softly. It's a kiss I'll never tire of.

I close my eyes and relish in the slight breeze blowing sweetly against my skin.

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**I don't even know what to say except thank you for reading and sticking with me (and Prickward) through all of this. It has been a joy to write, and I'm going to have a cocktail right now in celebration and in mourning. Because that's what these kids would do.**

**Cheers,**

**lola**


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